


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Compiled by the Editor of 

'' The Changed Cross," " Thk Shadow of the 

Rock," " The Chamber of Peace," Etc. 



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The Beautiful Gate, 



OTHER RELIGIOUS POEMS. 



Cofnpiled by the Editor of 
''the changed CROSS;" "the shadow of the rock;" "the 



CHAMBER OF PEACE," ETC. 



fcx.. 






NEW YORK 

Anson D. F. Randolph & Company, 

900 Broadway, Cor. 20th Street. 
1880. / *:: . 







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copyright, 1879, by 
Anson D. F. Randolph & Company. 



Edward O. Jenkins' Print, 
20 North William Street, N. Y, 



Robert Rutter, Binder, 
84 Beekman Street, N. Y. 



The Selections i7t this volume have been chiefly 
made from the religious newspaper and magazijie. 
The compiler has sought to avoid the reproduction of 
poems already embraced in " The Changed Cross,'^ 
'•''The SJmdow of tJie Rock^' '•'■ The Chamber of 
Peace^' and in other similar collections. The names 
of the writers have been given so far as they could he 
ascertained, 

October, 1879. 



AT THE BEAUTIFUL GATE, 

AND OTHER 

RELIGIOUS POEMS. 



^t tl)e I3eatttifttl (3aU, 

LORD, open the door, for I falter, 
I faint in this stifled air. 
In dust and straitness I lose ray breath ; 
This life of self is a living death. 
Let me into Thy pastures broad and fair. 
To the sun and the wind from Thy mountains free ; 
Lord, open the door to me ! 

There is holier life, and truer. 

Than ever my heart has found ; 
There is nobler work than is wrought within 
These walls so charred by the fires of sin, 
Where I toil like a captive blind and bound; 
An open door to a freer task 

In Thy nearer smile, I ask. 

Yet the world is Thy field, Thy garden ; 

On earth art Thou still at home. 
When Thou bendest hither Thy hallowing eye. 
My narrow work-room seems vast and high. 
Its dingy ceiling a rainbow dome — 
Stand ever thus at my wide-swung door, 

And toil will be toil no more. 

(5) 



A T THE BE A UTIFUL GA TE. 



Through the rosy portals of morning 

Now the tides of sunshine flow, 
O'er the blossoming earth and the glistening sea 
The praise Thou inspirest rolls back to Thee ; 
Its tones through the infinite arches go ; 
Yet, crippled and dumb, behold me wait. 

Dear Lord, at the Beautiful Gate. 

I wait for Thy hand of healing — 

For vigor and hope in Thee. 
Open wide the door — let me feel the sun — 
Let me touch Thy robe — I shall rise and run 
Through Thy happy universe, safe and free. 
Where in and out Thy beloved go. 

Nor want nor wandering know. 

Thyself art the Door, Most Holy ! 

By Thee let me enter in. 
I press toward Thee with my failing strength ; 
Unfold Thy love in its breadth and length ! 
True life from Thine let my spirit win ! 
To the saint's fair city, the Father's throne. 

Thou, Lord, art the way alone. 

To be made with Thee one spirit. 
Is the boon that I lingering ask. 

To have no bar 'twixt my soul and Thine ; 

My thoughts to echo Thy will divine ; 

Myself Thy servant for any task. 

Life ! life ! I may enter through Thee, the Door- 
Saved, sheltered forevermore ! 



UNDER ORDERS. 



WE know not what is expedient, 
But we may know what is right ; 
And we never need grope in darkness, 
If we look to Heaven for light. 

Down deep in the hold of the vessel 

The ponderous engine lies, 
And faithfully there the engineer 

His labor steadily plies. 

He knows not the course of the vessel, 
He knows not the way he should go ; 

He minds his simple duty, 
And keeps the fire aglow. 

He knows not whether the billows 

The bark may overwhelm ; 
He knows and obeys the orders 

Of the pilot at the helm. 

And so in the wearisome journey 

Over life's troubled sea, 
I know not the way I am going. 

But Jesus shall pilot me. 

I see not the rocks and the quicksands. 
For my sight is dull and dim ; 

But I know that Christ is my Captain, 
And I take my orders from Him. 



THE TIME IS SHORT. 



Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth, 
Speak peace to my anxious soul, 

And help me to feel that all my ways 
Are under Thy wise control ; 

That He who cares for the lily, 
And heeds the sparrows' fall. 

Shall tenderly lead His loving child : 
For He made and loveth all. 

And so, when wearied and baffled, 
And I know not which way to go, 

I know that He can guide me, 
And 'tis all that I need to know. 



West Cotoest '^Xcitt, 

GIVE me the lowest place : not that I dare 
Ask for that lowest place, but Thou hast died 
That I might live and share 
Thy glory by Thy side. 

Give me the lowest place ; or if for me 
That lowest place too high, make one more low, 

Where I may sit and see 
My God, and love Thee so. 



Wc^z Wmz is 0I)0rt. 

SOMETIMES feel the thread of life is slender, 
And soo^ with me the labor will be wrought ; 



THE TIME IS SHORT. 



Then grows ray heart to other hearts more tender. 
The time, 
The time is short. 

A shepherd's tent of reeds and flowers decaying. 

That night winds soon will crumble into naught : 
So seems my life, for some rude blast delaying. 

The time, 

The time is short. 

Up, up, my soul ! the long-spent time redeeming ; 
Sow thou the seeds of better deed and thought ; 
Light other lamps while yet thy light is beaming. 

The time. 

The time is short. 

Think of the good thou might'st have done, when 
brightly 
The suns to thee life's choicest seasons brought ; 
Hours lost to God in pleasures passing lightly. 
The time. 
The time is short. 

Think of the drooping eyes thou might'st have lifted 

To see the good that Heaven to thee hath taught ; 

The unhelped wrecks that past life's bark have drifted. 

The time. 

The time is short. 

Think of the feet that fall by misdirection. 
Of noblest souls to loss and ruin brought. 
Because their lives are barren of affection. 

The time, 

The time is short. 



THE TIME IS SHORT. 



The time is short. Then be thy heart a brother's 

To every heart that needs thy help in aught ; 
Soon thou may'st need the sympathy of others. 

The time, 

The time is short. 

If thou hast friends, give them thy best endeavor. 

Thy warmest impulse and thy purest thought, 
Keeping in mind, in word and action ever. 

The time. 

The time is short. 

Each thought resentful from thy mind be driven. 

And cherish love by sweet forgiveness bought ; 

Thou soon wilt need the pitying love of Heaven, 

The time, 

The time is short. 

"Where summer winds, aroma laden, hover. 

Companions rest, their work forever wrought ; 
Soon other graves the moss and fern will cover. 

The time. 

The time is short. 

Up, up, my soul ! ere yet the shadow falleth ; 

Some good return in later seasons wrought ; 
Forget thyself when duty's angel calleth. 
The time. 
The time is short. 

By all the lapses thou hast been forgiven, 

By all the lessons prayer to thee hath taught. 
To others teach the sympathies of Heaven, 

The time. 

The time is short. 



CUMBERED ABO UT MUCH SER VINO. 1 1 



To others teach the overcoming power 
That thee at last to God's sweet peace hath 
brought ; 
Glad memories make to bless life's final hour. 
The time, 
The time is short. 



ODtTttoarbs or ^0tttetoarb0. 

STILL are the ships that in haven ride 
Waiting fair winds or turn of the tide ; 
Nothing they fret, 
Though they do not get 
Out on the glorious ocean wide. 
O wild hearts that yearn to be free, 
Look, and learn from the ships on the sea. 

Bravely the ships in the tempest tossed, 
Buffet the waves till the sea be crossed ; 
Not in despair 
Of the haven fair, 
Though winds blow backward, and leagues be lost. 
O weary hearts, that yearn for sleep, 
Look, and learn from the ships on the deep. 



€titttb^reb about mtrcl) SertJing. 

CHRIST never asks of us such busy labor. 
As leaves no time for resting at His feet ; 
The waiting attitude of expectation 

He ofttimes counts a service most c(>mplete. 



1 2 CUMBERED ABO UT M UCH SER VING. 



He sometimes wants our ear — our rapt attention. 
That He some sweetest secret may impart ; 

'Tis always in the time of deepest silence 
That heart finds deepest fellowship with heart. 

We sometimes wonder why our Lord doth place us 
Within a sphere so narrow, so obscure, 

That nothing we call work can find an entrance ; 
There's only room to suffer — to endure ! 

Well, God loves patience ! Souls that dwell in still- 
ness. 

Doing the little things, or resting quite. 
May just as perfectly fulfill their mission. 

Be just as useful in the Father's sight 

As they who grapple with some giant evil, 
Clearing a path that every eye may see ! 

Our Saviour cares for cheerful acquiescence. 
Rather than for a busy ministry. 

And yet. He does love service, where 'tis given 
By grateful love that clothes itself in deed ; 

But work that's done beneath the scourge of duty, 
Be sure to such He gives but little heed. 

Then seek to please Him, whatso'er He bids thee ! 

Whether to do — to suffer — to lie still ! 
Twill matter little by what path He led us. 

If in it all we sought to do His will ! 



FROM EGYPT TO CANAAN. 13 



iTrotn ^^'^^X to Canaan. 

MY God, while journeying to Canaan's land, 
For peace I do not pray, 
Nor seek beneath Thy sheltering sweetness, Lord, 

To rest each circling day ; 
I cry to Thee for strength to struggle on, 

But do not ask that smooth the way may be ; 
Sufficient for Thy servant 'tis to know 
That earth's bleak desert ends at last with Thee. 

I do not ask of Thee that loving friends 

Should wander by my side. 
Or that my hand should feel an angel's touch, 

A guardian and a guide ; 
But Israel's God, do Thou go on before — 

An ever-present beacon in the way ; 
A fiery pillar in dark sorrow's night, 

A cloudy column in my prosperous day. 

I do not ask, O Master dear ! to lean 

My head upon Thy breast ; 
Nor seek within Thy circling arms to find 

An ever-present rest ; 
I beg from Thee that crown of prickly thorns 

That once Thy sacred forehead rudely tore : 
And I will press those crimson brambles close 

To my poor heart, and ask from Thee no more. 

But when, at length, my scorched and weary feet 

Shall reach their journey's end, 
And I have gained the longed-for promised land. 

Where milk and honey blend. 



14 QUIETNESS. 



Then give me rest and food and drink, dear Lord ; 

For then another pilgrim will have past, 
As Thou didst, o'er the wastes of barren sand 

From Egypt into Canaan, safe at last. 



UP the long slope of this low, sandy shore 
Are rolled the tidal waters day by day ; 

Traces of wandering feet are washed away, 
Relics of busy hands are seen no more. 
The soiled and trampled surface is smoothed o'er 

By punctual waves that high behests obey ; 

Once and again the tides assert their sway. 
And o'er the sands their cleansing waters pour. 
Even so, Lord, daily, hourly, o'er my soul. 

Sin-stained and care-worn, let Thy heavenly grace — 
A blest, atoning flood — divinely roll, 

And all the footsteps of the world efface, 
That like the wave-washed sand this soul of mine, 
Spotless and fair, smooth and serene, may shine ! 



T WOULD be quiet. Lord, 
J- Nor tease, nor fret ; 
Not one small need of mine 
Wilt Thou forget. 



''LO, I AM WITH YOU ALWA F." 15 



I am not wise to know 

What most I need ; 
I dare not cry too loud, 

Lest Thou shouldst heed ; 

Lest Thou at length should say : 
" Child, have thy will ; 

As thou hast chosen, lo ! 
Thy cup I fill!" 

What I most crave, perchance 

Thou wilt withhold, 
As we from hands unmeet 

Keep pearls, or gold ; 

As we, when childish hands 

Would play with fire, 
Withhold the burning goal 

Of their desire. 

Yet choose Thou for me — Thou 

Who knowest best ; 
This one short prayer of mine 

Holds all the rest. 



*'£0, 1 am tnitf) fctt ^Itoa^.'' 

NIGHT'S shadows lengthen till they meet and 
close. 
The mists are chill, and frost doth white the tree ; 
Yet Jesus speaks from out the night of woes, 
" Unto earth's end I ever am with thee ! " 



1 6 THE LORD IS RISE^T INDEED. 



Endless the changes that take place around — 
Stars pale and sink into the moonless sea, 

And empires proud lie ruined on the ground — 
Yet doth He whisper : " Still I am with thee ! " 

Lights glimmer o'er the drear and treeless wild. 
Then disappear ere yet the shadows flee ; 

But in the pathways, 'tween the rocks up-piled. 
Thy light, O Saviour, ever is with me ! 

Low, low upon the midnight grass I fall, 
Weary of treading paths I can not see ; 

" Rise up, my love, my fair one ! " Thou dost call ; 
" I will, my Lord, since Thou art still with me." 

In crooked ways I read Thy golden scroll — 
Thy pledge of everlasting help to me — 

I read, am strengthened ; though the billows roll. 
Thou sayest : " My child, I ever am with thee ! '* 

Ever, my Saviour, till the earth doth end — 

Yes, through the ages of eternity — 
Until I see Thee, Shepherd, Saviour, Friend, 

I cling to this : " Thou ever art with me ! '* 



^\\t Corb is ^isen Inbeeb. 

THE Easter praises may falter; 
And die with the Easter Day ; 
The blossoms that brightened the altar 
In sweetness may fade away ; 



THE LORD IS RISEN INDEED. 17 



But after the silence and fading 
There lingers, untold and unpriced, 

Above all changing and shading. 
The love of the living Christ. 

For the living Christ is loving, 

And the loving Christ is alive ! 
His life hidden in us is moving 

Us even to pray and to strive. 
Alas ! that e'en in our striving 

We labor like spirits in prison, 
Forgetting that Jesus is living, 

Forgetting the Saviour has risen ! 

We join in the Easter rejoicing. 

And echo each gladdening strain, 
While a pitiful minor is voicing 

Our own secret doubting or pain. 
We weave Him a shroud of our sadness. 

We cover His smile with our gloom, 
And drive back the angel of gladness 

Who waits at the door of the tomb. 

We know not our own hearts have hidden 

Our Christ in a grave of our own ; 
We know not our own hands are bidden 

To roll from the threshold the stone. 
While our tearful eyes, drooping and weary 

With watching in sorrow and fear. 
Might see, with the heart-broken Mary, 

That the Lord is alive — and is near ! 



1 8 CHIN N ERE TH. 



THE day is passed that seemed so wearisome. 
Now coming darkness all my toil relieves. 
And in the cool, gray twilight hastening home 
I sing along the way — Master, I come. 
Bringing my sheaves ! 

The ground was hard and stony, and I wept 

Over the tiny stalk, the tender leaves ; 
From hour to hour my loving vigil kept. 
Waited and toiled and prayed, while others slept. 
Behold my sheaves ! 

I am ashamed, dear Lord, they are so few ; 

Yet do I know Thy pitying love perceives — 
Searching this heart of mine all through and 

through — 
Not what I did, but what I tried to do ; 
Accept my sheaves ! 



St. yokn xvi. 3-8. 

THE limpid waters of the sacred lake 
All sparkling lay ; 
Each wave an opal, laughed and danced. 
As o'er the emerald hills first glanced 
The new-born day. 

A tiny ship all through the night had rocked 
Upon the wave ; 



CHINNERETH, 1 9 



Its owners heeded not the morning wind, 
For baffled hopes had made them, heart and mind. 
No longer brave. 

But, lo ! as toward the shining pebbly shore 

Their eyes they turn, 
They see, bathed in the morning's glorious light, 
A Form, so fair, their sad hearts at the sight 

Within them burn. 

Ah, waters pure ! above all waters blest. 

True name is thine, 
A harp — Chinnereth — and thy strings are pressed 
By sacred feet ; thy music lulled to rest 

Manhood Divine. 

Across the conscious billows came a voice, 

" What will ye gain, 
My children, from your weary night's turmoil ? 
For without Me even hard and earnest toil 

Must be in vain. 

" Cast ye your nets upon the ship's right side, 

And ye shall find." 
Obedient, they met their sure reward ; 
Their nets were filled. " We knew Thee not, O Lord, 

For we were blind." 

Across the billows of life's troubled sea 

There comes a voice 
To us, who all night long have toiled and tossed. 
Almost despairing at our labor lost, 

And we rejoice : 



THE BLESSED TASK. 



" O thou of little faith ! when wilt thou learn 

That without Me 
Thy heart, thy hopes, thy dreams are incomplete ? 
Cast now thy life on this side, at My feet, 

And thou shalt see 

" That He who in the wilderness can feed 

Ten thousand men 
With loaves and fishes — He can surely make 
Of thy poor gift, when offered for His sake, 

E'en talents ten." 



I SAID : " Sweet Master, hear me pray ; 
For love of Thee the boon I ask ; 
Give me to do for Thee each day 

Some simple, lowly, blessed task." 
And listening long, with hope elate, 
I only heard Him whisper : " Wait." 

The days went by, but nothing brought 
Beyond the wonted round of care, 

And I was vexed with anxious thought, 
And found the waiting hard to bear ; 

But when I said : " In vain I pray ! " 

I heard Him answer gently : " Nay." 

So praying still and waiting on, 

And pondering what the waiting meant, 
This knowledge sweet at last I won- 

And, oh, the depth of my content ! 



THE GATE. 



My blessed task for every day 
Is humbly, gladly to obey. 

And though I daily, hourly fail 
To bring my task to Him complete. 

And must with constant tears bewail 
My failures at my Master's feet. 

No other service would I ask 

Than this my blessed, blessed task. 



O STRONG-BARRED gate, 
Open to me ! 
On the other side 
Such joy I see ! 
None ever weary. 

None are crossed ; 
Even the thought 
Of pain is lost. 

I pra) ed in vain 

Before the gate ; 
I watched and wept 

Early and late. 
I watched and wept 

From sun to sun ; 
At last I said : 

" Thy will be done." 

Said it in truth. 
And turned away 



STRENGTH FOR THE DA Y. 



To do God's will 
From day to day ; 

" One farewell look, 
My wish, to thee." 

Behold, the gate 
Was open to me ! 



Strettjgtl) for tl)e lUa^. 

BEFORE. 

THE morning breaks in clouds, the rain is fallin 
Upon the pillow still I sigh for rest. 
But yet I hear so many voices calling 
To work, by which my burdened soul is pressed, 
That I can only pray, 
" Strength for the day." 

'Tis not a prayer of faith, but weak repining, 

For with the words there comes no hope, no light 
In other lives a morning sun is shining. 
While mine is but a change from night to night ; 
So while I weep I pray, 
" Strength for the day." 

For it is hard to work in constant shadow. 
Climbing with tired feet an uphill road ; 
And so, while my weak heart dreads each to-morrow. 
And once again I lift my heavy load. 
Desponding still I pray, 
" Strength for the day." 



UP TO GOD. 23 



AFTER. 

Now looking back to the long hours ended, 

I wonder why I feared them as they came ; 
Each brought the strength on which its task depended, 
And so my prayer was answered just the same. 
Now with new faith I pray, 
" Strength for each day." 

For in the one just closed I've learned how truly 

God's help is equal to our need ; 
Sufficient for each hour it cometh newly, 
If we but follow where its teachings lead. 
Believing, when we pray, 
" Strength for the day." 

He who has felt the load which we are bearing. 

Who walked each step along the path we tread, 
Is ever for His weary children caring. 
And keeps the promise made us when He said. 
He'd give us all the way 
" Strength for the day." 



ABOVE the trembling elements. 
Above life's restless sea. 
Dear Saviour, lift my spirit up, — 
Oh, lift me up to Thee ! 

Great calmness there, — sweet patience, too, 
Upon Thy face I see ; 



24 A PRAYER. 



I would be calm and patient, Lord, — 
Oh, lift me up to Thee ! 

I am not weary of Thy work, 
From earth I would not flee ; 

But while I walk and while I serve. 
Oh, lift me up to Thee ! 

That I may bless my tender friends. 
And those who love not me. 

Oh, lift me high above myself, 
Dear Jesus, up to Thee ! 

Whatever falls, of good or ill. 

Thy hand, Thy care I see. 
And while these varied dealings pass, 

Oh, lift me up to Thee ! 

And when mine eyes close for the last, 
Still this my prayer shall be, — 

Dear Saviour, lift my spirit up, — 
Oh, lift me up to Thee ! 



I WOULD that I were fairer. Lord, 
More what Thy bride should be, — 
More meet to be the sharer. Lord, 
Of love and heaven with Thee ; 
Yet if Thy love with me Thou'lt share, 
I know that love can make me fair. 



''FEAR NOT: I WILL HELP THEE." 25 

Oh, would that I were purer, Lord, 

More filled with grace divine I 
Oh, would that I were surer, Lord, 

That my whole heart is Thine ! 
Were it so pure that I might see 
Thy beauty, I would grow like Thee. 

Oh, would that I could higher. Lord, 

Above these senses live ! 
Each feeling, each desire, my Lord, 

Could wholly to Thee give ! 
The love I thus would daily share. 
That love alone would make me fair. 



BEING perplexed, I say, 
Lord, make it right ! 
Night is as day to Thee, 

Darkness is light. 
I am afraid to touch 
Things that involve so much ; — 
My trembling hand may shake, 
My skill-less hand may break : 
Thine can make no mistake. 

Being in doubt, I say, 

Lord, make it plain ! 
Which is the true, safe way ? 

Which would be vain ? 
I am not wise to know. 
Nor sure of foot, to go. 



26 ''FEAR NOT: I WILL HELP THEE." 



My blind eyes can not see 
What is so clear to Thee. 
Lord, make it clear to me. 

Being in fear, I say, 

Lord, show Thy face ! 
Shine on my daily path. 

Lighting each place. 
Little will matter then 
How death comes, where, or when ; 
Little, what life may be ; 
Little, what griefs I see. 
All shall be well, with Thee. 

Being in straits, I cry. 
Lord, make a way ! 
Open a door for me : 

Help me, I pray ! 
Gold Thou hast, endless store : 
Strength, all I want, and more. 
Alt hearts are in Thy hand, — 
Nothing can Thee withstand. 
Lord, look, and give command. 

Now, Lord, what wait I for } 

On Thee alone 
My hope is all rested, — 

Lord, seal me Thine own ! 
Only Thine own to be. 
Only to live to Thee. 

Thine, with each day begun. 
Thine, with each set of sun. 
Thine, till my work is done. 



ONL Y. 27 

Then, Lord, then bear Thou me 

Safe through the flood ; 
In Thy courts, welcome me, 

Bought with Thy blood. 
Once prisoner, now unbound ; 
Once lost, and by Thee found ; 

Brought home from sin and fears ; 
Brought home from death and tears. 
Home, for unnumbered years. Amen. 



ONLY a word for the Master, 
Lovingly, quietly said. 
Only a word ! 
Yet the Master heard. 
And some fainting hearts were fed. 

Only a look of remonstrance. 
Sorrowful, gentle, and deep. 
Only a look ! 

Yet the strong man shook. 
And he went alone to weep. 

Only some act of devotion. 
Willingly, joyfully done, 

" Surely 'twas naught ! " 
(So the proud world thought.) 
But yet souls for Christ were won ! 

Only an hour with the children, 
Pleasantly, cheerfully given. 



28 THE TWO SHADOWS. 



Yet seed was sown 
In that hour alone 
Which would bring forth fruit for heaven ! 

' Only." — But Jesus is looking 

Constantly, tenderly down 
To earth, and sees 
Those who strive to please ; 

And their love He loves to crown. 



'* He that divelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide 
under the shadow of the Almighty V—Vsalm xc. i, 

THERE are shadows near eveiy pathway 
The daylight but partly conceals. 
And we hail with delight or with sadness 
The shadow that " hurts or that heals." 

One shadow falls darkly in sorrow. 
Regrets, disappointment and fears, 

And the hopes of a brighter to-morrow 
Are quenched in the anguish of tears. 

And man holds in memory only 

The love that once brightened his way, 

And bereaved, misanthropic, and lonely. 
Mourns its folly, deception — decay ; 

And without faith in Jesus or heaven 
Knows not the rich blessing of prayer. 

But rebellious, with sins unforgiven. 
Walks by Marah's dark waters of care. 



A DAY-BLESSING. 29 



So in gloom falls the shadow of life's evening 
O'er the soul like a mystical spell ; 

And silver-haired, wasted and weary, 
Life ebbs in a hopeless farewell. 

The other brings coolness and blessing — 
A refuge from noonday's fierce heat. 

It comes like a mother's caressing, 
With comfort ineffably sweet ; 

For we know that its love changeth never, 
That Christ is our " covert and shade," 

That the soul may in peace rest forever. 
For He our redemption has paid. 

O blood-bought and dearest possession 
Is the faith that brings pardon, repose ! 

O blessed beyond all expression 

Is the Presence Divine at life's close ! 

Then the shadow which death draws around us 
Shall be changed into light from above. 

As we clasp His dear hand in the valley, 
And behold only infinite love. 



^''As thy day thy strength shall heP 

EACH morn on awaking 
A whisper I hear. 
That fills me with courage 
And quiets my fear. 



30 A DAY-BLESSING. 



It tells that strength-blessings 
From the Strong One in heaven, 

Each day as I need them 
To me shall be given. 

Its faithful fulfilling 

Each moment I see, 
Whatever the duties 

The day brings to me ; 
There's a Helper beside me 

Who girds for the fight. 
And a Hand in the darkness 

That leads to the light. 

Whatever revealings 

Of toil or of care 
Bring the hours in their passing, 

I do not despair ; 
I may become weary, 

Too weary to sing, 
But I have the strength-blessing. 

And " do the next thing." 

And cheerily onward 

My journey I take, 
Hope need not be fainting, 

God will not forsake ; 
When strength is exhausted 

New gifts come again. 
And I find that God's promise 

Is never in vain. 

Sometimes, like a cov/ard, 
I sighingly say, 



HOW rO LIVE. 31 



'* But what of the morrow 
That follows to-day ? " 

Then gently rebukeful 
The message is heard, 

And my heart that was timid 
To trusting is stirred. 

Since yesterday's blessings 

Avail not to-day. 
The work of to-morrow 

Aside I will lay ; 
To-day I will labor. 

To-night I will rest ; 
The needs of the future 

God knows of the best. 

God sends to His children 

Day-strength with day-bread ! 
Since the past with His blessing 

Has joyously sped. 
My heart shall be quiet 

In happy content. 
And in His good service 

My life shall be spent. 



f 0tD t0 £itie. 

SO should we live, that every hour 
Should die, as dies a natural flower— 
A self-reviving thing of pov/er ; 



32 MUCH MORE. 



That every thought, and every deed, 
May hold within itself the seed 
Of future good and future meed. 

Esteeming sorrov/ — ^whose employ 
Is to develop, not destroy — 
Far better than a barren joy. 



iHucl) iEore. 

" The Lord is able to give thee much vtore than this^ — 2 Chron. 

XXV. 9. 

'^ l\/r UCH more than this "— -O loving Christ ! 

iVl The Father's greatest gift. 
In whom " all things " are ours — to Thee 

Our waiting eyes we lift ; 
Their askings can not grow too large, 

Since we with Thee are heirs, — 
Although by ways still dark, we hear 

Thy answer to our prayers. 

Thy kingly giving far outweighs 

All that we ask or think, 
Drawing us to Thy heart of love 

By many an upward link. 
And faith may climb the ladder, Prayer, 

Each step an answer given, 
Each round inscribed " much more than this," 

Up to the gates of heaven. 

The tender reachings of Thy hand 
Far underlie our wants ; 



GOD'S LOVE. 33 



The same great love that stoops to hear, 

Interprets, ere it grants ; 
However ill we know to ask 

For blessings all untold, 
Thou knowest well what good to give. 

What wisely to withhold. 

And when, some lesser light gone out, 

We blindly grope for Thee, — 
Teach us, dear Jesus, step by step. 

To trust Thee utterly ; 
Anoint our sorrow-lidded eyes 

With Thy sv/eet strengthening grace, 
And lift them to the Light of Life 

Full shining in Thy face. 

Take Thou these blind and stammering prayers. 

That scarce can spell Thy name ; 
Correct, enlarge them, make them bold 

To plead the children's claim ; 
Then pour the storehouse of Thy love, 

Send answer down, until 
Sweet mercy's measure running o'er, 

Our deepest need shafl fill ! 



(Sob's CotJe. 

AS one who sails 'neath Southern stars, 
Outlooking through the night. 
Beholds across dark leagues of sea, 
The golden fires of Stromboli, 
Uprising clear and bright ; 



34 ALL THINGS FOR GOOD. 



And sails away, and comes again, 

But finds it still the same — 
Far out upon the world's dim verge. 
Steady and calm, above the surge. 

Like some vast altar's flame. 

So life's lone voyager, through his tears. 

Looks out across time's sea, 
And there, in darkest night of fears, 
God's love gleams brighter down the years. 

And through eternity. 



^11 ^^{jin^s for (^00^. 

''''All things work together for good to thevi that love God" 

FEAR not, O troubled heart, to take on trust 
This passport to thy rest, — 
For though thou canst not read, as yet, the whole, 
God's seal is manifest. 

" All things " — so runs the promise, broad and free, 

If only Christ be mine ; 
Sorrow and joy are servants of ojte Lord, 

And work out ojte design. 

The very griefs that vex and try my soul 

Svv^eet recompense will yield. 
And work the furtherance of His perfect will, 

Thus faithfully revealed. 

And I will take, from out the river's depth. 
Like Israel of old, 



THE SEED AND FRUIT. 35 



Memorial stones, to mark where, at His word, 
The waters backward rolled. 

Father, Thy life-long mercies, old and new, 
Shall be the stones so fair. 

Built on the ground-work of a grateful heart. 
To raise an altar there ! 

To " all things " minister, of right, to me, — 
Things present, things to come ; 

And help to bring me on my pilgrim path 
To the eternal Home ! 



"T^IS not its blood that bursts the vine 

J- When in the press it's trampled on. 
But healing, sacramental wine. 
The Holy Grail — -the cup divine — 
Christ's life free-given for our own. 

'Tis not with angry stroke, but kind. 

The sculptor hews the marble stone ; 
His blows, their scars, if we will mind. 
But loose the angel there confined — 
An angel from a shapeless stone. 

'Twas not in wrath the Psalmist old 

His inspired hand swept o'er the strings, 

And vexed his harp with beatings bold ; 

A purer, holier music rolled 

E'en from its sharpest quiverings. 



S6 STEP B Y STEP. 



And thus in all the world's great round, 
When we its meaning full divine — 

From fiercest twangs the sweetest sound ; 

By sharpest strokes the soul unbound ; 
From sorest bruise the sweetest wine. 

So to the faith now tossed with fear 
All seeming ills shall prove to be 
Each one the seed for harvest near ; 
" Though Christ was dead, He is not here ; * 
There needs the cross, the funeral bier, 
Ere we the resurrection see. 



0te|i bj3 0te:p. 

ON the mount of Contemplation, 
At the highest Aspiration, 
Oh, how near ! 
Oh, how near seems heaven's portal ! 
Quickly would we pass athwart all 
That's between, — 

O'er the clouds of snowy whiteness. 
Through the angel-fields of brightness, 

Up to God ! 
With desires pure, and feelings 
All aglow with Heaven's revealings. 

We would haste ! 

But our path is downward bending ! 

We must mind our steps, descending 

All the way. 



IN THE SHADOW. 37 



And the way is narrow, winding, 
'Midst briers and stones and thickets, blinding 
Us from Heaven. 

Yet it is the way directed ; 
We shall find it intersected. 

Here and there. 
With the paths from beauteous places, 
Rays of light from angels' faces, — 

Waves of song ! 

Step by step while onward moving. 
Lights and signs and shadows proving. 

And the ground. 
We are slowly, slowly learning 
What will fit us for discerning. 

Nearer to God ! 



a OITTING in the shadow, singing 
»-^ Such a sober song. 
Sure thou dost the merry season 

And thy sunshine wrong ! 
Forth among thy venturous brethren. 

Where great deeds are done ; 
Only in the wide arena 

Is the garland won. 
Fame and honors are the guerdon 

Of the bold and strong. 
Singer, in the shadow singing 

Such a serious song, 



IN THE SHADOW. 



What if unto thee derision 
And neglect belong ? 

* While thy slow, reluctant fingers 

On the lute-strings lie, 
Eager crowds to crown thy rivals 

Pass thee careless by. 
And thou sittest, singing, singing, 

Through the silence lone. 
To the same sad burden ringing 

Mournful monotone. 
And the busy will not hearken, 

Nor the idle heed ; 
The ambitious do not prize thee. 

Nor the happy need. 
Come forth to the sunshine, singer, 

'Mong the haunts of men. 
Tune thy harp to blither measures— 

They will hear thee then. 

■* Far above my compeers 

Couldst thou lift me now, 
Wreathing with thy laurels 

My triumphant brow, 
By my siren singing. 

Not a soul unmoved — 
In all hearts enthrone me, 

Chosen and beloved. 
More than Balak proffered 

To the recreant seer. 
All the mighty covet, 

And the proud hold dear. 
Should not, could not, tempt me, 

To a softer strain ; 



WASTE. 39 



I must sing my song out. 
Though I sing in vain. 

' As the Master guides it, 

So the hand must play, 
And the words He whispers 

Needs must have their way. 
Let the world turn from me 

With a mute disdain, 
I must speak my message. 

Though I speak in vain ; 
I must sing my song out, 

Though I sing in vain, 

* Let men hurry by me. 

As they will to-day ; 
There will come a morrow 

When they needs must stay ; 
When they needs must listen. 

Murmur as they may. 
Therefore in the shadow 

Leave me singing on ; 
They will surely seek me 

At the set of sun. 
When life's day is waning. 

And her hopes are gone." 



o 



HEART too deeply loving ! 
Why fling away thy gold ? 
Love never can be bought or sold ; 



40 WASTE. 



Love is no sum for proving ; 
Why strive for what thou canst not gain. 
And waste thy golden years in vain ? 

Sad heart ! too tightly round thee 

The magic chain is coiled ; 

The uses of thy life are foiled 
Since this deep spell hath bound thee ; 

And thy being vibrates to the touch 

Of a single hand loved overmuch. 

If one word hath the power 

To set ablaze the skies, 

Or bring tears brimming to sad eyes. 
And change life hour by hour. 

It prophesies of sorrow near ; 

In vain — in vain — thou wilt not hear. 

It shows all things unreal ; 
For life, wide though it be, 
In all its wideness holds for thee 

But one — thine own ideal ; 
All other forms and faces fade 
Before the idol thou hast made. 

If e'en one glance averted. 
One cold clasp of a hand, 
Can make it darkness o'er the land. 

Make life seem all deserted — 
Beware, O heart ! lest thou hast given 
To earth the worship claimed by heaven ! 

And duties are around thee. 
Straight lying in thy path. 



DUTY. 41 

But thy dull mind a shadow hath 
That hides what light surrounds thee. 
And far ahead the beacon lies 
Of thy transfixed steadfast eyes. 

Look down, sad eyes, look downwards. 
The earth is full of woe, 
Of wild laments and wailings low. 

Of harsh and jarring chords. 

Poor heart ! in soothing others' pain. 
The Light of Life will shine again. 

And life is worth the living. 
Though, as the years pass by, 
They bring no answer to thy cry, 

No gift to match thy giving ; 
Though thou must sadly journey on. 
With scarce a hope to lean upon. 

God gave thee life — ^to use it 

For His great ends, not thine ; 

And if the cup be bitter wine. 
Shrink not — nor dare refuse it. 

He knows thy love — He knows thy pain — 

Sad life ! thou wilt not be in vain. 



O 



H, ask not thou, how shall I bear. 



The burden of to-morrow ? 
Sufficient for to-day is care, 
Its evil and its sorrow ; 



42 DUTY. 

God imparteth by the way 
Strength sufficient for the day. 

Endeavor, with unruffled brow 

And with a mind serene. 
To meet the duties of the Now, 
The Present and the Seen. 
He who doth a Saviour own 
Is not left to strive alone. 

If prosperity doth bubble 

Briskly in thy golden cup. 
Raise it to pale lips, that trouble 
Sorrowfully parcheth up ; 
Riches generously given 
May be found again in heaven. 

Clench thy difficulties fast 
With a determined hand. 
Until, in thy victorious grasp, 
They crumble into sand. 

He who overcomes at last 
- Will not mourn about the past. 

But if, in thy narrow border, 
Many bitter herbs are set. 
Duly framed and kept in order, 
They may recompense thee yet. 
Use the bitter and the sweet 
As thy med'cine and thy meat. 

The}^ v/ho, in appointed duty. 

Live most secretly with God, 
Shall come forth in fullest beauty, 



BETWEEN THE LIGHTS. 43 



Blossoming like Aaron's rod. 
Plants can flourish in the dark, 
If within the Golden Ark. 



A LITTLE pause in life, while daylight lingers. 
Between the sunset and the pale moonrise. 
When daily labor slips from weary fingers, 
And soft gray shadows veil the aching eyes. 

Old perfumes wander back from fields of clover, 
Seen in the light of suns which long have set ; 

Beloved ones, whose earthly toil is over, 
Draw near as if they lived among us yet. 

Old voices call me— through the dusk returning 

I hear the echo of departed feet, 
And then I ask with vain and troubled yearning, 

What is the charm which makes old things so 
sweet ? 

Must the old joys be evermore withholden ? 

Even their memory keeps me pure and true. 
And yet from out Jerusalem the golden 

God speaketh, saying, " I make all things new." 

" Father ! " I cry, the old must still be nearer ; 

Stifle my love, or give me back the past — 
Give me the fair old earth, whose paths are dearer 

Than all thy shining streets and mansions vast. 



44 PRAISE. 



Peace, peace, the Lord of earth and heaven knoweth 
The human soul in all its heat and strife. 

Out of His throne no stream of Lethe fioweth, 
But the clear river of eternal life. 

He giveth life, aye, life in all its sweetness, 
Old loves, old sunny scenes will He restore ; 

Only the curse of sin and incompleteness 
Shall taint thine earth and vex thy soul no more. 

Serve Him in daily work and earnest living. 
And faith shall lift thee to His sunlit heights ; 

Then shall a psalm of gladness and thanksgiving 
Fill the calm hour that comes between the lights. 



JJraise. 

FOR gladsome summer days, 
For joy and peace always, 
Dear Lord, I sing'my praise ; 
For woful winter's night, 
For grief's long, fearful fight, 
Still praise, O Lord of Light ! 

For all the calm I find 
For lightsome, happy mind, 
I praise Thee, Lord most kind ! 
For all life's toil and strain. 
For weary heart and brain, 
I praise Thee, Lord, again. 



PEACE, 45 

For dear ones' health and peace, 
And joys that still increase, 
My praises shall not cease ; 
Yea, for their grief and care. 
And burdens loved ones bear, 
I praise Thee still with prayer. 

For home, for each dear friend, 
For life, till life shall end. 
My praises shall ascend ; 
For dear ones gone before, 
For Death's foot at my door, 
I'll praise Thee, Lord, the more. 

With gladness I'll receive 
The joys my God shall give. 
And praise Thee while I live ; 
The griefs Thou mayest send 
My heart in twain may rend — 
Still praises shall ascend. 

And when kind Death shall stand 
To lead me by the hand 
Into Immanuel's land, 
I'll praise Thee and adore, 
Upon the heavenly shore. 
Dear Lord, forevermore. 



J3e ^tz. 

AS flows the river, 
Calm and deep, 
In silence toward the sea, 



46 NOT UNTO HIMSELF. 



So floweth ever, 
And ceaseth never, 
The love of God to me. 

He kindly keepeth 
Those He loves 

Secure from every fear. 
From the eye that weepeth 
For one that sleepeth, 

He gently dries the tear. 

What peace He bringeth 
To my heart. 

Deep as the soundless sea ! 
How sweetly singeth 
The soul that clingeth, 

My loving Lord, to Thee ! 

How calm at even 
Sinks the sun 
Beyond the clouded west I 

So tempest-driven, 

Into the haven, 
I reach the longed-for rest. 



I^ot tinto himself. 



" For none of us liveth unto hiinself^ and no man dietk unto h 
self.'''' — Rom. xiv. 7. 



u 



P from the dead He comes ; no bands might 
bind Him 



NOT UNTO HIMSELF. 47 



Who came death's captives from their chains to save ; 
\nd those who in the morning seek to find Hira, 
Only behold a lonely, rifled grave. 

Fresh from the dead He comes ; amid the flov/ers. 
Brighter, more fragrant, and more pure than they ; 

And those who bring their spice these early hours. 
An angel bids to look where Jesus lay. 

Up from the ground it comes ; the green grass 
springing 

Dead winter can not hold in its embrace ; 
Nor can the ice forever hush the singing 

Of streamlets rippling through that garden place. 

Up in our hearts it comes, — the new life throbbing 
Which Jesus wrested from death's ghastly hand. 

No more the dirge-like wail of Lenten sobbing 
May mar the music of Immanuel's land. 

Not for itself it comes, the spring's fair greenness, 
The fruit and beauty of the summer's life, 

But that, far off in autumn's ripened keenness. 
Our barns with grain and fruitage may be rife. 

Not to themselves they live, the golden sunshine. 
The myriad marvels of earth, sea, and air ; 

The teeming life of forest, hill, and prairie, 
Each ministers to each, and everywhere. 

Not for Himself Christ rose that Easter morning. 
Not to Himself the conqueror liveth now ; 

Mot that His head alone might wear the crowning 
Placed He the diadem above His brow. 



48 THE PRICE. 



For us, for us His mighty wonder-working, 
For us He trod the wine-press all alone. 

Burst the rock-gates, and, through the garden taking 
His path, passed grandly upward to His throne. 

For us He lives through all the passing ages, 
Dropping through unclosed hands His gifts to men, 

The angel who records them on its pages 
Finds only loving deeds to us to pen. 

For us His grace, a treasury unfailing 
Of wisdom, faith, and love, and inner light. 

For us His instant prayer, and, all-prevailing, 
For us His armor proved in every fight. 

Not to ourselves we live the life He giveth, 
His resurrection life, our own to-day ; 

He only in Christ's resurrection liveth 
Who gives, as Jesus gave. His life away. 

Then gladly come we, this fair Easter morning. 
Bringing such spices as our lives afford, 

Not to an empty grave, but — no man scorning — 
To those He rose for, and our risen Lord. 



FOR the joy set before thee — 
The cross. 
For the gain that comes after — 

The loss. 

For the morning that smileth — 

The night. 



GOD KNOWS. 49 



For the peace of the victor — 
The fight. 

For the white rose of goodness — 

The thorn. 
For the Spirit's deep wisdom — 

Men's scorn. 
For the sunshine of gladness — 

The rain. 
For the fruit of God's pruning — 

The pain. 

For the clear bells of triumph — 

A knell. 
For the sweet kiss of meeting — 

Farewell. 
For the height of the mountain — 

The steep. 
For the waking in heaven — 

Death's sleep. 



^0^ En0tD0. 

THERE is a thought upon my bosom stealing, 
A thought that ever, with each tide of feeling. 
Ebbs and flows ; 
Flowing, my soul its mighty flood receiveth ; 
Ebbing, it still on me its impress leaveth — 
" God knows, God knows." 

As ocean waves the cliffs majestic smiting. 
Upon the rock their records grand are writing, 
As on Time goes, 

4 



5© GOD KNOWS. 



So on my soul, by waves of sorrow smitten, 
In never-fading characters is written, 

" God knows, God knows." 

God knows ! When the pure tides of joy are rising. 
And all my spirit in their flow surprising 

With pleasure glows. 
Not on this transient mood my soul relieth , 
One blessed thought my joy intensifieth — 

" God knows, God knows." 

When in despair, no earthly comfort heeding, 
My spirit prostrate lies, all crushed and bleeding 

From cruel blows. 
Soothed is each shattered, throbbing nerve of feeling, 
Touched by this thought, as by a hand of healing — 

" God knows, God knows." 

As birds within their nests, no danger knowing, 
Are rocked by tempests that without are blowing. 

To sweet repose. 
Rocked in the cradle of Divine compassion 
My soul is safe amid the storms of passion ; 

" God knows, God knows." 

When with rebellious thought my heart is burning. 
When from the narrow way my feet are turning 

To walk with foes. 
In vain my soul her guilty secret hideth ; 
Though men be blind, one awful truth abideth — 

" God knows, God knows." 

When on the promises of love relying. 

My soul in deep contrition bowed, is sighing 



THE HILLS OF GOD. 5 1 



In sorrow's throes, 
Like morning dew upon the flowers distilling, 
There comes a thought, my heart with comfort filling, 

" God knows, God knows." 

Great Sympathizer in my joy and sorrow. 
Great Keeper of the present and the morrow 

Till Time shall close. 
Grant that forever in my heart remaining. 
This truth may hold me by its power restraining — 

" God knows, God knows." 



%\\z j^ills of (^0b. 

"T^IS like a narrow valley-land, 
J- This earthly way of mine ; 

Before me, clad in glory grand, 
I see the hills divine — 
Those heights the saintly long have trod- 
The Hills of Hope, the Hills of God ! 

Though mists of doubt enfold me in. 
Though through the dark I grope, 

The upward path my feet may win 
That mounts the heavenly slope ; 

And walking through the lowland here, 

I know the Hills of God are near. 

Unto them oft I lift mine eyes. 

That oft with tears are wet. 
And through the mist they calmly rise 

Where sun no more shall set. 



52 BEHOLD, I KNOCK! 



To me forever grand and fair 

The Hills of God — my Help is there ! 



I3el)0lb, I Encck! 

BEHOLD, I knock ! 'Tis piercing cold abroad 
This bitter winter-time ; 
The ice upon the dark pines has not thawed, 

The earth is white with rime ; 
O human hearts ! are ye all frozen too. 
That at closed doors I vainly call to you ? 
Is there not one will open to his Lord ? 

Behold, I knock ! 

Behold, I knock ! The evening shadows lie 

So peaceful near and far ; 
Earth sleepeth, but in yonder cloudless sky 

Glimmers the evening star; 
'Tis in such holy twilight-time, that oft 
Full many a stony heart hath waxed soft. 

Like Nicodemus, in the dark-drawn night. 
Behold, I knock ! 

Behold, I knock ! O soul, art thou at home ? 

For thy Beloved 's here ; 
Hast thou m.ade ready flowers ere He should come ?l 

Is thy lamp burning clear ? 
Know'st thou how such a Friend received should be ?* 
Art thou in bridal garments dressed for Me ? 

Decked with thy jewels as for guests most dear ? 
Behold, I knock ! 



THE END. 53 



Behold, I knock ! Say not, " 'Tis zephyr mild 

Which rustles the dead leaf." 
It is thy Saviour, 'tis thy God, my child. 

Let not thine ear be deaf ; 
If I come now in breezes soft and warm, 
I may return again upon the storm ; 

'Tis no light fancy — firm be thy belief ; 

Behold, I knock ! 

Behold, I knock ! As yet I am thy guest. 

Waiting without for thee ; 
The time shall come when, homeless and distressed. 

Thou, soul, shalt knock for Me ; 
To those who heard My voice ere 'twas too late, 
I open in that hour My peaceful gate ; 

To those who scorned, a closed door will it be. 
Behold, I knock ! 



1"^HE course of the weariest river 
Ends in the great gray sea ; 
The acorn, forever and ever, 

Strives upward to the tree. 
The rainbow, the sky adorning, 

Shines promise through the storm ; 
The glimmer of coming morning 

Through midnight gloom will form. 
By time all knots are riven. 

Complex although they be. 
And peace will at last be given. 

Dear, both to you and to me. 



54 WISHING FOR THE DA Y. 



Then, though the path may be dreary. 

Look onward to the goal ; 
Though the heart and the head be weary. 

Let faith inspire the soul. 
Seek the right, though the wrong be tempting, 

Speak truth at any cost ; 
Vain is all weak exempting 

When once the gem is lost. 
Let strong hand and keen eye be ready 

For plain and ambushed foes ; 
Thought earnest and fancy steady 

Bear test unto the close. 

The heavy clouds may be raining. 

But with evening comes the light ; 
Through the dark are low winds complaining, 

Yet the sunrise gilds the height ; 
And Love has his hidden treasure 

For the patient and the pure ; 
And Time gives his fullest measure 

To the workers who endure ; 
And the Word that no law has shaken 

Has the future pledge supplied ; 
For we know that when we " awaken 

We shall be satisfied." 



toisljing for \\\t ^ag. 

IN the horror of great darkness, 
In the starless midnight gloom, 
'Mid the shrieking of the tempest, 
'Mid the hissing of the foam ; 



WISHING FOR THE DA Y. 55 



When the sons of men are quailing, 
When the strongest faith is failing, 

Sailor ! cast an anchor, 
Wishing for the day. 

When the cnilly sea-fog curtain 

Gathers close with stealthy tread. 
While weird voices strangely whisper : 

" Breakers, breakers close ahead ! " 
In the agony of keeping 
The stern watch that knows no sleeping. 
Sailor ! cast an anchor. 
Wishing for the day. 

When a more than midnight darkness 

Hangs its heavy pall of clouds, 
When a worse than ocean tempest 

Rattles through the shivering shrouds. 
When the life-blood is congealing. 
When the heart and brain are reeling. 

Christian ! cast an anchor, 
Wishing for the day. 

When the icy hand of sorrow 

Lays its grasp upon thy heart, 

And the very thought of thinking, 

Makes thine inmost being start ; 

When the pulse of hope is failing. 

When the last faint star is paling. 

Christian ! cast an anchor. 
Wishing for the day. 

When the one who's gone before thee. 
In the bitter thorny road. 



56 HOMEWARD. 



Bids thee trace the bleeding foot-prints 
Of the wounded Son of God ! — 

When the willing spirit chooses, 

And the writhing flesh refuses, 

Christian ! cast an anchor. 
Wishing for the day. 

When the corn of wheat is dying. 

In its dark forgotten tomb, 
And the glowing golden harvest 

Scarcely glimmers through the gloom ; 
When the hand that sows is weary, 
And the barren land looks dreary. 

Christian ! cast an anchor, 
Wishing for the day. 

When the sound of coming judgment 

Falls on many a startled ear. 
And a voice is on the mountains, 

Lo ! the Bridegroom draweth near ' 
When earth's bravest sons are quaking. 
And the world's foundations shaking, 

Christian ! ride at anchor, 
'Tis the break of day. 



^otttetDarb. 



THE day dies slowly in the western sky ; 
The sunset splendor fades, and wan and cold 
The far peaks wait the sunrise ; cheerily 

The goatherd calls his wanderers to the fold. 



SLEEP. 57 

My weary soul, that fain would cease to roam, 
Take comfort ; evening bringeth all things home. 

Homeward the swift-winged sea-gull takes her flight ; 

The ebbing tide breaks softer on the sand ; 
• The red-sailed boats draw shoreward for the night. 

The shadows deepen over sea and land. 
Be still, my soul, thine hour shall also come ; 
Behold, one evening, God shall lead thee home ! 



Sleep. 

O GENTLE sleep ! the gracious gift and blest 
Of God's own sending ; 
O sacred sleep ! dear foretaste of that rest 

Which knows no ending ; 
Sweet promise of that far-off Paradise 

Of calm release. 
Where weary ones may lean on Jesus' breast. 
And close their eyes. 
And be at peace. 

Earth " presses down ; " the hearts that would ascend 

Droop, faint and weary ; 
So distant seems the life-long journey's end. 

The way so dreary ; 
Each day's fierce struggle tires us out, as though 

We could no more, 
Then comes Thine handmaid. Sleep, our griefs to tend. 

With balm for woe. 

And strength in store. 



58 THE MYSTIC STEERSMAN. 



We lay us down in peace — Thy touch divine 

Our eyelids closing ; 
Darkness — Thy secret place — becomes the shrine 

Of our reposing ; 
Gently we breathe our souls into Thy care. 

So glad to be 
One day more near to that home-rest of Thine, 

Which we may share 

With saints and Thee. 

So night by night we linger at Thy feet. 

Until the morning ; 
Glimpses of heaven, bright visions pure and sweet. 

Our dreams adorning ; 
And if Thy voice, kind Lord, we seem to hear. 

That word most blest 
For willing souls, with sympathy replete, 

Falls on our ear, 

" Sleep — take your rest ! " 



Wc\t ittsstic Steersman. 

OH, fragile bark upon an unknown sea, 
Whose solemn surges find no echoing strand, 
Who is the steersman that so patiently 
Does at the magic v/heel forever stand ? 

When angry billows sleep, and skies are fair, 

And sails flap idly in the fitful Avind, 
Anxious to learn my bearings, what they are, 

I turn and shout into the dark behind ; 



THE MYSTIC STEERSMAN. 59 



Then listen. But no echo comes again ; 

Disconsolate I turn me round, and now 
Attempt with straining eyes to scan the main. 

But see no farther than my vessel's prow. 

I sometimes wonder why so frail a thing 
Was ever launched upon so vast a sea ; 

But what avails my dreamy wondering. 
What answer has it ever brought to me ? 

Yet in the soul I hear meek whisperings, 
And sounds from fairer climes float on the air ; 

While faith, luxurious, plumes her drooping wings. 
And gives herself to loving trust and prayer. 

When dismal, chilling fogs of doubt shut down, 
Brooding like night through many weary miles. 

The love that many waters can not drown 

Looks up — through rifts of blue the sunshine smiles. 

If storms arise, and hoarse wild seas run high. 
And fears that all is lost come with the swell. 

Let me but hear the whisper, " It is I," 
And there is calm more sweet than I can tell. 

When passion's whirlwind howls across the deep. 
And signs of danger threaten more and more, 

Straightway I call the Master. Does He sleep ? 
Ah, no ! who sails with Him comes safe to shore. 

Therefore I trust my faithful unseen Guide, 

And, meekly suppliant, lift the outstretched hand, 

Begging my saintly Watcher to abide. 
And bring my frail bark safe to fatherland. 



6o -'BUND spinner: 



§15 toill be SDone. 

> will be done : thou canst not pause or shrink, ■ 

But humbly place thy neck beneath His feet ; 1 

ince the cup He giveth thee to drink 1 
May yet be sweet. 



His will be done : thou canst not choose, but bear 

The cross His wisdom to thy weakness gave ; 
Perchance its weight may vanish into air. 
If thou be brave. 

His will be done : the way seems dark and drear. 
But thou must keep it till the end shall come ; 
Perchance e'en now bright angels linger near 
To bear thee home. 

His will be done : it is the last sad strife. 

But thou must wrestle till the foe shall flee — 
Till heaven's own measure of eternal life 
Contenteth thee. 



*'!3Hnb 0:pinner." 

LIKE a blind spinner in the sun, 
I tread my days ; 
I know that all the threads will run 

Appointed ways ; 
I know each day will bring its task ; 
And, being blind, no more I ask. 



''BLIND spinner:' 6\ 



I do not know the use or name 

Of that I spin ; 
I only know that some one came, 

And laid within 
My hand the thread, and said : " Since you 
Are blind, but one thing you can do." 

Sometimes the threads so rough and fast 

And tangled fiy, 
I know wild storms are sweeping past. 

And fear that I 
Shall fall, but dare not try to find 
A safer place, since I am blind. 

I know not why, but I am sure 

That tint and place. 
In some great fabric to endure 

Past time and race. 
My threads will have ; so, from the first. 
Though blind, I never felt accurst. 

I think, perhaps, this trust has sprung 

From one short word 
Said over me when I was young — 

So young I heard 
It, knowing not that God's name signed 
My brow, and sealed me His, though blind. 

But whether this be seal or sign, 

Within, without, 
It matters not ; the bond Divine 

I never doubt. 
I know He set me here, and still 
And glad and blind, I wait His will — 



62 BLESSING IN DENIAL. 



But listen, listen, day by day, 

To hear the tread 
Who bear the finished web away. 

And cut the thread. 
And bring God's message in the sun, 
* Thou poor blind spinner, work is done." 



Blessing in UleniaL 

I ASKED of God a single gift ; , 
He said me nay. 
" He does not see my aching heart," 
I could but say. 

Then in its stead. He sent to me 

A priceless gift. 
That on my heart in glory burst 

As sun through rift. 

And in my ear He whispered low, 

" Dost thou not see, 
Oh, doubting child, how I have proved 

My love to thee 

" By granting not thy earnest prayer. 
That I might give 
A greater blessing in its stead } 
Rejoice and live." 



THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 63 



^\\t €I]antber of ^mtz. 

" The pilgri7n they laid in a large upper chamber.^ whose ivindoio 
opened toward the sunrising. The name of the chamber was Peace, 
where he slept till break of day." — Pilgrim's Progress. 

IN a pleasant upper chamber 
Weary Christian lay, 
Sleeping till the light of morning 

Chased his dreams away ; 
Sound the rest, and sweet the dreaming. 

After holy feast ; 
Sweeter still the sunrise beaming 
From the rosy east. 

Through long nights of pain and sorrow. 

Wakeful in the gloom, 
I have thought of Christian sleeping 

In that peaceful room, 
Soothed by counsel fitly spoken. 

Talk of sacred things ; 
Slumber was a loving token 

From the King of kings. 

Times of bountiful refreshment 

God vouchsafes to give ; 
Oft He bids us wake rejoicing, 

Strong to work and live. 
But how calm the resting-places 

Where His loved ones lie, 
When they sleep with quiet faces 

To the eastern sky ! 

Sweet to know the pilgrim's slumber, 
Hallowed by His grace ! 



64 "NOT AS THE WORLDr 



Sweet to wake " next door to heaven ' 

For a little space ! 
Sweeter still another waking 

After longer night, 
When His day of glory, breaking, 

Calls the saints to light ! 



''K'ot as tl)e toorlb." 



" Peace I leave with you ; -my feace I give unto you. Not as the 
world giveth give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled : 
neither let it be afraid.^'' 



"Nc 



I OT as the world ! " 
O words of consolation ! 
O solace of the soul in tribulation ! 

" Peace unto you I leave. 
But not as gives the world my peace I give." 

How gives the world ? 
With small and scanty measure ; 
A cup of bitterness with every pleasure, 

And promises of gain 
Whose poor fulfillment brings but woe and pain ! 

" Not as the world ! " 
With infinite compassion 
He speaks, and word and tone of God-like fashion : 

" Peace unto you I leave, 
But not as gives the world my peace I give." 

What gives the world ? 
Vain honors ; empty yearnings 



REST, 65 

For fame and wealth, and strifes and fierce heart- 
burnings, 

And cheap, deceitful pleasure, 
And shame, and groans, and sorrow without measure. 

" Not as the world ! " 
Sweet rest from hopeless craving. 
From fear of endless woe and hellish slaving, 

Such legacy He leaveth 
To every child who on His name believeth. 

" Not as the world ! " 
Hear Him, ye poor and lowly ; 
To man He speaks, the Saviour, high and holy : 

" Peace unto you I leave. 
But not as gives the world my peace I give," 



lest. 



How sweet, how passing sweet. 
Rest even here to see, 
To rest my soul at Jesus' feet, 
So near, my Lord, to Thee. 

At dawning light I lay 

On Thee my ever}'- care, 
For well I know through all the day 

My burdens Thou wilt bear. 

Through sorrow's darkening fall 
I still will rest with Thee, 

For Thou dost hear the raven's call, 
And Thou dost care for me, 

5 



66 WAITING. 



Night falls with shadows deep. 
With Thee I calmly rest ; 

Thou givest Thy beloved sleep. 
Close nestled to Thy breast. 



tXlaitittg. 

" More than they that watch /or the morning.'' 

COME to us, Lord of love and light. 
Come to the souls that watch and wait ! 
Wearily long has been the night, 

And we see no dawn, though the hour is late. 

Eagerly we lift our straining eyes, 

Vainly trying to pierce the gloom. 
Looking toward the Eastern skies. 

If happily at last we may see Thee come. 

The sorrowful nations are needing Thee ; 

The people in tumult are tossed about 
Like the waves of the restless sea. 

Moved by passion, and hate, and doubt. 

Men are groping amid the night, 
And the hour is heavy with many a sigh ; 

Come to us. Master, with love and light, 

Lest we faint in the darkness and droop and die. 

But there comes a voice in the silence deep : 

" Wait, be patient, it is not long ! " 
So we rise from our sorrow and no more v/eep. 

But cheer the darkness with love and song. 



HE A VEN NEAR. 67 

Coming ! coming! Oh, is it so ? 

Do we hear the sound of Thy chariot-wheels ? 
Saviour, all else that we long to know 

We will leave till Thy wiser love reveals. 

The hours pass slowly ; the morning chime 
Is long in sounding. But let us wait. 

Soon we shall come to the end of time, 
And see the Lord at the golden gate. 

Saviour, while passes our cheerless night. 
And our souls oft weary and hopeless be. 

We dream of that wonderful morning light. 
When our eyes shall open and look on Thee. 



^eauen Near. 

" There is a Happy Land^ 
Far^ far away.'''' 

OH, say not so ! my heart, with sorrow swelling, 
Would quicker throb, and keener anguish know ; 
And from the secret place of grief's indwelling, 

More bitter tears would flow ! 
The tender, farewell kiss, and dying blessing. 

Would crush my spirit with a weight of woe ; 
And wide athwart life's sky dark clouds would gather, 
If this mdeed were so. 

Oh, say not so ! that disembodied spirits, 
Leaving earth's mourners with the lifeless clay, 

Plume their bright wings a Heaven to inherit 
That lieth ''far away ! " 



68 HEA VEN NEAR. 



How shall dull thought traverse the weary distance ? 

How shall faith's eye the dear departed see, 
If the fond members of a broken household 

Are far removed from me ? 

Oh, tell me not that " Happy Land " lies distant ; 

That far away from Time's receding shore 
Are built the Heavenly mansions — home eternal, 

Of loved ones gone before ! 
'Tis sweeter far to think that Death's cold river 

Is but a narrozu stream, whose swelling tide, 
Though deep and dark to us, with golden shimmer 

Breaks on the heavenly side. 

And it is sweet to think the glorious portals. 

Within which dwell the Eternal, sacred Three, 
Though all unseen by longing eyes of mortals. 

Are ever near to me ! 
That the worn spirit by the shining threshold 

May fold its wings and calmly sink to rest, 
Catching, perchance, the echo of the chorus 

They sing among the blest. 

And when the heart grows faint in life's great struggle,' 

And brightest scenes are dimmed by many a tear, 
A kind relief is granted — if Faith whispers 

" A better home is near." 
Then visions of the loved ones flit before us. 

And spirit-hands we clasp within our own. 
And know, by rustling angel-pinions o'er us, 

We journey not alone ! 

Then say not so ! I would have Heaven near me, 
Only a veil my home and me between, 



THE NE W HE A VEAL 69 



Which death may raise, and in a moment usher 

The soul to the unseen ! 
Then shall the hand that clasps the loved in dying 

Retain the grasp, till Christ the other take. 
And I may sleep one moment on Love's bosom, 

The next in bliss awake ! 



MY God, I'd rather look to Thee 
Than to these fancies fond. 
And wait till Thou reveal to me 
That fair and far Beyond. 

In Thee my powers, my treasures live. 
To Thee my life must tend ; 

Giving Thyself, Thou all dost give, 
O soul-suificing Friend ! 

And wherefore should I seek above 

Thy City in the sky ? 
Since firm in faith, and deep in love. 

Its broad foundations lie ; 

Since in a life of peace and prayer. 
Nor known on earth, nor praised. 

By humblest toil, by ceaseless care. 
Its holy towers are raised. 

Where faith the soul hath purified. 
And penitence hath shriven. 

And truth is crov/ned and glorified. 
There — only there — is Heaven. 



70 MY SAVIOUR. 



o> 



^^ODttls. 



'NLY a blade of grass, 
As it grew in a darkened court ; 
But its slender, finger-like, graceful spire 
Upward pointing to the soul's desire, 
Caught the hopeless eye of a fainting one, — 
And, lo ! the message was brought. 

Only one little word ; 
But it stirred the depths of a living heart. 
And there, through the years and the changes of life 
With its blessing and glory, its darkness and strife, 
The soul of that little word shall abide, 

And nevermore depart. 

Only a breath of air, 
Sent by the love of the Merciful One, 
And the quivering life awaked and renewed. 
By the touch of the Lord was freshly imbued 
As this Border- Land whisper was borne to his soul — 

" Thy work is not done." 

Only a second of Time ; — 
Briefest of all, yet Eternity's master ! 
Holds for the sinner in powerful grasp. 
Pardon and peace if the promise he clasp ; 
A promise divine, oh, sinner attending, 
A glory unchanging is yours never ending, — 

" Only believe ! " 



M 



Y sleepless eyes were dim with tears. 
My heart was sad with nameless fears ; 



MY SAVIOUR. 71 



When One I knew not came to me, 
And saved my soul from misery. 

The radiance of that Light divine 
Into my night of gloom did shine ; 
I saw the One who died for me 
Turn and look on me lovingly. 

Ecstatic joy my being thrilled ; 
Glory the earth and heavens filled ; 
My day of peace began to dawn ; 
I reveled in that golden morn. 

But He, the loving friend and true. 
Soon gave me sterner work to do ; 
Led me into the wilderness. 
To trace the way of holiness. 

I met the Tempter, felt his power. 
And yielded in an evil hour ; 
Crushed, bleeding, guilty, helpless lay. 
Far from the straight and narrow way. 

Out of the depths of my despair 
I cried to God to meet me there ; 
To clothe me with His panoply. 
And from foe to set me free. 

He came, the strong Deliverer, 
And made me more than conqueror ; 
His love, a power within, my heart 
Scathless became to Satan's art. 

And now I walk the earth a king. 
Crowned with the thorns of suffering ; 



72 BIDE A WEE, AND DINNA FRET. 



Wearing the robe that Jesus wore. 
Bearing the heavy cross He bore. 

Waiting to join the countless throng 
That sing Heaven's jubilant new song ; 
Waiting to reign with Christ above ; 
Waiting the fullness of His love. 



\ S the road very dreary ? 
Patience yet ! 
Rest will be sweeter if thou art aweary, 
And after night cometh the morning cheery. 
Then bide a wee, and dinna fret. 



I 



r 



The clouds have a silver lining. 
Don't forget ; 
And though he's hidden, still the sun is shining ; 
Courage ! instead of tears and vain repining. 

Just bide a wee, and dinna fret. 

With toil and cares unending 
Art beset } 
Bethink thee, how the storms from heaven descending 
Snap the stiff oak, but spare the willow bending. 

And bide a wee, and dinna fret. 

Grief sharper sting doth borrow 
From regret ; 
But yesterday is gone, and shall its sorrow 
Unfit us for the present and the morrow ? 

Nay ; bide a wee, and dinna fret. 



THE NIGHT COMETH. 73 



An over-anxious brooding 
Doth beget 
A host of fears and fantasies deluding ; 
Then, brother, lest these torments be intruding. 

Just bide a wee, and dinna fret. 



I SAW two candles : one unlighted lay, 
The other lighted stood ; 
And a pale man beneath its slender ray 
His nightly toil pursued. 

In patient zeal he drew his failing sight 

O'er many a mystic page ; 
And with the harvest of that quiet night 

He turned to bless his age. 

But when the pearl of dawn dissolved in day, 

The candle flashed its last ; 
And yet that other candle perfect lay. 

Unchanged by all had passed. 

" Better," I said, " to live, and waste in living. 

Than lie in useless sleep ; 
Who gives to others what is worth the giving, 

Can not both give and keep." 



COMETH the night, wherein no man may labor. 
Therefore we v/ork while yet the day is light ; 



74 THE NIGHT COMETH. 



To thee, to me, to foeman, friend, and neighbor, 
Cometh the night — the night. 

Toil on, toil on, nor dally with the morning, 

Sweet siren, couching in a thousand snares ; 
Faithless she flies — scanty and brief her warning — 
Leaving thee unawares. 

Then amorous breath of noon will tempt to pleasure, 

And ease, and rest, until the heat be past : 
Arise and work ! We have no time for leisure, 
Whose sky is overcast. 

Aye, overcast. Though morn be sweet and pleasant, 

And later noon shall offer fresh delight. 
He surely sees no looks beyond the present, 
The shadow of the night. 

Terrible night to those with task half ended, 

Who revel carelessly through rosy hours ; 

Leaving the corn, the goodly corn, untended, 

To gather in the flowers 

Which close or droop or die when eve advances, 

And, lo ! the sorry harvest withered lies ; 
And phantoms of lost hope, lost time, lost chances. 
Out of the gloom arise. 

Not so comes night to all. Sweet sleep will strengthen 

Toilers with burden of the day opprest ; 
To whom the evening shadows, while they lengthen, 
Bring peace and hard-won rest! 

Oh, welcome rest for weary hearts and aching, 
And wounded feet all travel-stained and sore ! 



LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 75 



Welcome the rest, thrice welcome the awaking, 
Never to need it more. 

Work, then, nor fear the struggle and the labor ; 
For though maybe the day yet seemeth bright, 
To thee, to me, to foeman, friend, and neighbor, 
Cometh the night — the night. 



Cigljt in SDarkness. 

'"''He knoweth the way that I take P — Job xxiii. 8-10. 

I KNOW not — the way is so misty — 
The joys or the griefs it shall bring, 
What clouds are o'erhanging the future. 

What flowers by the roadside shall spring ; 
But there's One who will journey beside me. 

Nor in weal nor in woe will forsake ; 
And this is my solace and comfort — 
" He knoweth the way that I take." 

I stand where the cross-roads are meeting, 

And know not the right from the wrong ; 
No beckoning fingers direct me, 

No welcome floats to me in song ; 
But my Guide will soon give me a token 

By wilderness, mountain, or lake : 
Whatever the darkness about me 

" He knoweth the way that I take." 

It is true that I can not perceive Him ; 

If backward or forward I go. 
He hideth Himself; but He tries me. 

That more of His love I may know. 



76 THE SUMMONS. 



And, oh, that the gold may be purer, 

For the trouble that comes for love's sake ! 

I am not afraid of life's sorrow, 

" He knoweth the way that I take." 

Who knoweth ? The Father who loves me. 

The Saviour who suffered for me ; 
The Spirit all present to guide me, 

Whatever the future shall be. 
So let me have hope and take courage. 

This truth shall my joy-anthem make. 
The Lord is my strong tower of refuge, 

*' He knoweth the way that I take." 

And I know that the way leadeth homeward. 

To the land of the pure and blest. 
To the country of ever-fair summer. 

To the city of peace and of rest ; 
And there shall be healing for sickness. 

And fountains life's fever to slake ; 
What matters beside } I go heavenward, 

" He knoweth the way that I take." 



MY summons may come in the morning, 
Or the deep peaceful slumber of night ; 
It may come with a lingering warning, 

Or as quick as a flash of sunlight ; 
It may come while I'm thinking of heaven ; 
It may come while my thoughts are astray ; 



HAVE MERCY, JESU. 77 



While Fm sitting alone in my dwelling, 
Or greeting some friend on the way ; 

But the day or the hour, when the bidding 
Comes to me, I never can know, 

And I pray, at the call of the Master, 
I may answer : "I'm ready to go ! " 

It may come while I'm working for others, 

Or laying out plans for myself ; 
It may come when I'm laid, as a well-worn 

And useless old book, on a shelf ; 
It may come when my life, full of sweetness, 

Would fain have it tarry awhile ; 
It may come when my sorrow's completeness 

Makes me welcome the call with a smile ; 
Though it fall in the gentlest of whispers, 

Or sound with a deep, startling knell, 
I pray only that I may be ready 

To answer : " Dear Lord, it is well ! " 



"T^fj/ soul cleaveth to the dust ; quicken Thou me, according 
to Thy word. 

MY soul fast cleaveth to the dust ; 
My heart within is dead and cold ; 
I'm blown about by every gust ; 
No certain anchorage I hold. 
I fain would lift mine eyes on high, 

But, all unpurged, they can not see ; 
I feel like one about to die, — 
Have mercy, Jesu, quicken me ! 



78 



My life is like the untilled land, 

On which no flower or fruitage grows ; 
'Tis like a waste of arid sand, 

A wintry landscape clothed with snows. 
All empty are the vanished years ; 

Shall like the past the future be ? 
'Gainst this I plead with prayers and tears, 

Have mercy, Jesu, quicken me ! 

My life is like to plants that creep. 

Like plants that droop and touch the ground ; 
No seed I sow, no harvest reap. 

All barren as the months go round. 
Uproot me, then, and plant again, 

I would be fruitful unto Thee ; 
Prune, cleanse me. Lord, I'll scorn the pain : 

Have mercy, Jesu, quicken me ! 



^'' Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest awhile.''^ 
— Mark vi. 31. 

COME ye yourselves apart awhile, and rest. 
Once Christ to His own followers did say; 
And still doth He, who knoweth what is best 
For His own loved ones, speak to some to-day. 

He often calls with Him to come aside 

To the seclusion of a quiet room, 
Those who with Him more closely may abide, 

That His sweet lessons to their hearts may come. 



APART. 79 

To be alone with Him ; — this is to rest — 
To rest awhile from busy thoughts and care ; 

To be reposing on His tender breast, 
And learn what joy and peace and love are there. 

One taste of God's dear love in Jesus found. 
How precious to the waiting, longing soul ! 

Though earth's best gifts and pleasures may abound, 
This priceless love doth far surpass the whole. 

If we this Saviour know from sin to save, 
The Holy Spirit for our teacher take, 

We then are x\Qh,—for all things best we have. 
Which God, with Him, will give for His dear sake. 

And if in wisdom He doth judge it meet 
The cup of suffering to our lips to press. 

His tender mercy is e'en then complete — 
His own right hand doth still uphold and bless. 

And should the furnace be exceeding hot. 
Which some of these. Thine own, are called to bear. 

Oh, Thou, who art Thyself the Son of God, 
Wilt Thou be found still walking with them there ? 

We know Thy promises are ever sure. 
Thy trusting ones Thou never wilt forsake ; 

Oh, grant that these may to the end endure, 
Whate'er Thy holy will may give or take ! 



8o I AM NOT WOR TH V. 



I am not tDortl)^. 



^^Lord, I am not "worthy that Thou shouldst co7ne under my roof : 
but speak the word only and my servant shall be healed^ — Matt. 



<4 T AM not worthy." Is not this the thought 
i- That soonest springs within the happy breast 

When the dear love, long dreamed of and desired, 
In tender whispers is at last confessed ? 

Before the overwhelming bliss of love returned, 
The soul shrinks back in deep humility ; 

" I am not worthy of this mighty joy, — 

What have I done that it should come to me } " 

If human love brings questionings like these, 

What says the heart, all soiled and smirched with 
sin. 

When at her door Incarnate Love Himself, 
The King of Glory, seeks to enter in ? 

" I am not worthy. Lord, that Thou shouldst come 
Under my roof." This her first cry, and then, 

As Faith draws near she waxes bold, " He heals 
With but a word." "Speak, Lord, with power 
again ! " 



^l]e |}iljgrim. 

A PILGRIM am I, on my way 
To seek and find the Holy Land. 
Scarce had I started, when there lay 
And marched round me a fourfold band. 



THE PILGRIM. 8l 



A smiling Joy, a weeping Woe, 
A Hope, a Fear, did with me go ; 
And one may come, or one be gone ; 
But I am never more alone. 

My little Hope, she pines and droops. 
And finds it hard to live on earth ; 
But then some pitying angel stoops 
To lift her out of frost and dearth. 
And bears her on before, and up. 
To taste, out of our Saviour's cup. 
Such cheer as here she can not find. 
While patiently I plod behind. 

Thus oft I send her from below — 

Poor little Hope — for change of air, 
I miss her sorely ; but I know 
That God of her is taking care. 

And when my earthly course is done. 
To heaven's gate I'll see her run 
To meet me 'mid the shining bands. 
With full fruition in her hands. 

My Fear I give to Faith to still 

With lullabies upon her breast. 
She sings to him : " Our Father's will. 
Not ours, be done, for His is best," 
And lays him down to sleep, in bowers- 
Beneath the Cross — of passion-flowers. 
But ever yet he Vv'-akes in pain. 
And finds his way to me again. 

But Woe — she scarce will loose her hold. 
She sits and walks and runs with me, 



82 "COME UNTO ME." 



And watches. Ere the sun with gold 
Pays to the East his entrance fee, 
She stirs, and stares me in the face. 
And drives me from each stopping-place. 
A guardian angel in disguise 
Seems looking through her tearful eyes. 

Perhaps she hath a charge from God 

To see that ne'er, through Satan's camp, 
I slumber on my dangerous way 
Too sound or long. A safety-lamp. 
Meantime, by Joy is carried nigh, 
Somewhat aloof ; for he is shy. 
Too shy within my grasp to stay, 
Though seldom is he far away. 

Thus, fellow-pilgrims, fare we on : 

But, in what mortals call my death. 
My Fear is doomed to die anon ; 
When Woe shall leave me safe — so saith 
My sweet-voiced Hope — and turn to bring 
Some other soul ; while Joy shall spring 
With me through heaven's strait door, to be 
Forever of my company. 



*' Olome iinta itte." 

A SWEETER song than e'er was sung 
By poet, priest, or sages ; 
A song which through all heaven has rung, 
And down through all the ages. 



''COME UNTO MEr 83 



A precious strain of sweet accord, 

A note of cheer from Christ our Lord ; 

List ! as it vibrates full and free, 

Oh ! grieving heart, " Come unto Me." 

Oh ! wise provision, sweet command. 
Vouchsafed the weak and weary ; 

A friend to find on either hand, 
A light for prospect dreary. 

A friend who knows our bitter need. 

Of each endeavor taking heed ; 

Who calls to every soul opprest, 

" Come unto Me, I'll give you rest ! " 

" Come unto Me." The way's not long, 
His hands are stretched to meet thee ; 
Nov/ still thy sobbing, list the song 

Which everywhere shall greet thee. 
Here at His feet your burden lay, 
Why 'neath it bend another day. 
Since one so loving calls to thee, 
" Oh, heavy laden, come to Me ! " 

A sweeter song than e'er was sung 

By poet, priest, or sages ; 
A song which through all heaven has rung, 

And down through all the ages. 
How can we turn from such a strain. 
Or longer wait to ease our pain ? 
Oh ! draw us closer. Lord, that we 
May find our sweetest rest in Thee ! 



84 PR A YER. 



(^ob's Best. 

IT is the evening hour. 
And thankfully, 
Father, Thy weary child 

Has come to Thee. 
I lean my aching head 

Upon Thy breast, 
And there, and only there, 

I am at rest. 
Thou knowest all my life, 

Each petty sin ; 
Nothing is hid from Thee, 

Without, within ; 
All that I have or am 

Is wholly Thine ; 
So is my soul at peace, 

For Thou art mine. 
To-morrow's dawn may find 

Me here, or there ; 
It matters little, since Thy love 

Is everywhere ! 



|)rager. 

IF, when I kneel to pray. 
With eager lips I say : 
* Lord, give me all the things that I desire — 
Health, wealth, fame, friends, brave heart, religious 

fire ; 
The power to sway my fellow-men at will, i 

And strength for mighty works to banish ill " — I 



THE LOOM OF LIFE. 85 



In such a prayer as this 
The blessing I must miss. 

Or if I only dare 

To raise this fainting prayer : 
' Thou seest, Lord, that I am poor and weak, 
And can not tell what things I ought to seek ; 
I therefore do not ask at all, but still 
I trust Thy bounty all my wants to fill " — 

My lips shall thus grow dumb. 

The blessing shall not come. 

But if I lowly fall. 

And thus in faith I call : 
' Through Christ, O Lord, I pray Thee give to mc 
Not what I would, but what seems best to Thee, 
Of life, of health, of service, and of strength. 
Until to Thy full joy I come at length " — 

My prayer shall then avail, 

The blessing shall not fail. 



%\\z Cooitt of £ife. 

ALL day, all night I can hear the jar 
Of the loom of life, and near and far 
It thrills with its deep and muffled sound, 
As the tireless wheels go always round. 

Busily, ceaselessly goes the loom ; 
In the light of day and the midnight's gloom. 
The wheels are turning early and late. 
And the woof is wound in the warp of fate. 



S6^ CORONA T. 



Click, clack ! there's a thread of love wove in ; 
Click, clack ! another of wrong and sin ; 
What a checkered thing will this life be 
When we see it unrolled in eternity ! 

Time, with a face like mystery, 
And hands as busy as hands can be, 
Sits at the loom with its arm outspread. 
To catch in its meshes each glancing thread. 

When shall this wonderful web be done ? 
In a thousand years, perhaps, or one ; 
Or to-morrow. Who knoweth ? Not you or I, 
But the wheels turn on and the shuttles fly. 

Are we spinners of wool for this life-web — say ? 
Do we furnish the weaver a thread each day ? 
It were better, then, O my friend, to spin 
A beautiful thread than a thread of sin. 

Ah, sad-eyed weaver, the years are slow. 
But each one is nearer the end, I know ; 
And some day the last thread shall be woven in. 
God grant it be love instead of sin. 



(Il0r0nat. 

ALL day the wind, with bitter breath, had with 
the trees been plying ; 
Had rocked and tossed them to and fro, and filled 
the air with sighing. 



CORONA T. 87 



The pallid earth was cold and still, the heavens were 

gray and lowering ; 
Between, a shifting veil of snow, in fleecy softness 

showering. 

It was a day that seemed to moan of earth's dull 

weight of anguish, 
Of jo)'S that die, and love that pales, and hopes that 

slowly languish ; 
Of all that carries jarring notes, where should be 

sweetest singing ; 
Of discords in the music that the hand of God set 

ringing. 

But as the hidden sun went down the snow-flakes 
ceased descending. 

And golden beams like lances flashed, the clouds in 
shivers rending. 

While through the rifts a flood of light burst on the 
tree-tops hoary, 

And set the white earth in a blaze of radiant sunset- 
glory. 

Then, in the golden sheen, the load of weary thoughts 

was lightened — 
The Hand is one that sent earth's pain, and darkest 

storm-clouds brightened. 
He lets the mists obscure His sun, and lives bedimmed 

with sadness, 
But in His own mysterious way doth crown the end 

with gladness. 

We know not how discordant notes can roll to Him 
in sweetness, 



88 FULL MEASURE. 



Nor life's poor tangled, broken ends be gathered in 

completeness. 
We only know its purpose is with Him, in beauty 

breaking, 
And on eternal shores earth's strains are sweetest 

echoes waking. 



iTull ilteasiire. 

" Full measure., pressed down and running over.''' 

THOU givest, Lord, full measure. 
And that is good for me ; 
Thou keepest safe each treasure 

That I confide to Thee : 
Safe in Thy presence hide them ; 
Safer they can not be. 

Thou seest my heart's dejection — 

Why am I full of fears ? 
I think of Thy rejection. 

And stay my faithless tears ; 
For the very wound that pains me 

Thy tender touch endears. 

Then give me, Lord, full measure 
Of Thy grace so rich and free ; 

Give, Lord, at Thy good pleasure, 
I leave it all with Thee, 

And claim each promised blessing 
As mine, by Thy decree. 



ENOUGH. 89 



I AM so weak, dear Lord ! I can not stand 
One moment without Thee ; 
But oh, the tenderness of Thy enfolding, 
And oh, the faithfulness of Thine upholding, 
And oh, the strength of Thy right hand ! 
That strength is enough for me. 

I am so needy. Lord ! and yet I know 
All fullness dwells in Thee ; 
And hour by hour that never-failing treasure 
Supplies and fills in overflowing measure 
My last and greatest need. And so 

Thy grace is enough for me. 

It is so sweet to trust Thy word alone ! 
I do not ask to see 
The unveiling of Thy purpose, or the shining 
Of future light on mysteries untv/ining ; 
Thy promise-roll is all my own — 

Thy word is enough for me. 

There were strange soul-depths, restless, vast, and 
broad, 
Unfathomed as the sea, 
An infinite craving for some infinite stilling ; 
But now Thy perfect love is perfect filling ! 
Lord Jesus Christ, my Lord, my God, 

Thou, Thou art enough for me ! 



90 THE GLORY TO BE REVEALED, 



^' TT E that findeth his life shall lose it."* 
J- J- O words as strange as true ! 

I was long in learning the less on 
That came to my heart from you. 

' He that loseth his life shall find it." 
O truth I was quick to see, 
When the loss I had counted sorest 
Brought wonderful gain to me ! 

One must find in the valley of shadow 
The light of the glowing skies. 

To prove how the world's best wisdom 
Is folly to those more wise. 



\\t ^brs t0 be HetJeaUh. 



AH ! little I'll reck, when the journey is o'er. 
Of the burdens and griefs I so dreaded and 
bore — 
They'll all be forgot as I enter the door. 

With that light on my face, and that song in my ears, 
How small my regard for past troubles and fears. 
While my harp wakes the music I've longed for for 
years ! 



UR DAIL Y BREAD, 9 1 



With my Lord full in sight, and myself without stain. 
How blissful the notes, how triumphant the strain, 
As my tongue sounds His praises again and again ! 

Then why should I tremble when tossed on the wave ? 
The fiercest of storms can not give me a grave, 
While Jesus is present to comfort and save. 

Though raging the ocean, the skies are serene ; 
Though clouds darkly gather, the sun shines between. 
And bright o'er the billows " The City" is seen ! 

Oh ! weakest of cowards ! Was ever a saint 
So feeble as I am, so quick of complaint, — 
So easily downcast, so ready to faint ? 

My hope is in God ! Then, my heart, be at rest ; 
The waves swell in wrath ; but each glittering crest 
Is bright with the glory encircling His breast. 

He reigns! And He loves me! No longer I'll moan, 
Rememb'ring the music and light round the throne — 
So soon to be mine when the journey is done ! 



WE pray not. Lord, that we may never lack. 
Nor that Thy bounty may our garners fill. 
Not such the daily prayer that echoes back 
From minster's vault to hermit's lonely hill. 



92 THE TIDE, 



What hast Thou taught us ? " Give to us this day 
Our daily bread." We need not ask for more. 

Another dawn may find us far away 

In that rich land where hunger's pains are o'er. 

And dream v/e then our spirit's food to store, 
And gather manna for the coming days } 

Or trust to high resolve, that never more 
Our feet may stumble in life's rugged ways 1 

Or fear we, falling once, no more to stand ? 

Or, straying now, our way no more to find } 
Shall we not trust that bounteous, tender hand 

That feeds the hungry, and that leads the blind } 

New every morning are Thy mercy's dews ; 

New every noontide Thy warm, ripening beams ; 
New every evening through The sunset hues 

The bright reflection of Thy glory streams. 

Grant us, then, Lord, in childlike faith to live. 
Nor care o'ermuch our future way to see ; 

Trusting Thy love our daily bread to give 
For soul and body, till we rest with Thee. 



T. 



^l)e Siibe. 



HE tide is out ! 
Low lie the dank sea-weeds. The life is gone 
That gave them strength to rise ; and now forlorn, 

Low from the rocks they lie, 
Waiting in patience for the morrow morn, 



THE TIDE. 93 



When strong with life, and high, 
The tide will then come in. 

The tide is out. 
Far out at sea I watch the dancing waves 
Rising to meet the sea-gull, as she laves 

In them her weary breast. 
Fearless of all, the elements she braves, 

Seeking like me for rest, — 

Her tide is never in. 

The tide is out. 
Low, lifeless like the sea-weed, now I lie, 
Wishing that, like the gull, I swift could fly 

From 'neath the burning sun 
And scorching sands, that make me long to die. 
Fearing that I am one 
Whose tide will ne'er come in. 

The tide is out. 

Sinking upon the sand, with bended knee ; 

The cruel sand that soon will bury me, 

Unless the tide will soon come in ; 

With humble heart. Father, I pray to Thee, 
Cleanse me from grief and sin, 
And make my tide come in. 



The tide is in ! 
Swift surging o'er the sand. And now no more 
Beside the barren, desolate sea-shore 

I watch the sun-dried rocks, 
And think my life like theirs is thirsting, sore. 

While cooling waters mock — 

For now the tide is in. 



94 THE TIDE. 



The tide is in. 
My happy life seems to me in its prime, 
Full of sweet hope, whose fruit will come in time. 

Bringing glad rest and peace. 
But it was not alaways so ; there was a time 

When sorrov/s would not cease ; 

But now — ^the tide is in. 

The tide is in. 
With grateful heart I lift mine eyes above, 
To Him who sent the tide, whose name is Love ; 

Who saw me tired lie 
In a strange land, like Noah's weary dove, 
Not knowing He was nigh 
Who makes the tide come in. 

The tide is in. 
And lifting my drooped head, I now in haste 
Go forth to meet my work, across the waste ; 

Eager to live my life 
As Thou hast made it, who gave me a taste 

Of weary care and strife, 

Before my tide came in. 

The tide is in. 
But, ah ! the time will come, I know full well. 
That it will leave me ; when, I can not tell ; 

But when that time shall come, 
I pray that Thou my strong thoughts will quell. 

And take me to that home 

Where tides are always in. 



NOT IN MYSELF. 95 



" Your li/e is kid with Christ in Gody 

HIDDEN with Christ — as the busy brain \yhich 
works unseen 
From the hour of birth to the day of death, nor rests 
between. 

Hidden with Christ — as the body hides the beating 

heart, 
Feeling the strong, full pulsing life in every part. 

Hidden with Christ — as the sap is hid in the grow- 
ing tree, 
Giving to every leaf and bud its symmetry. 

Hidden with Christ — as the seed is hid under the 

sod; 
So with the lives concealed from men with Christ 

in God. 



K'0t in iHgaelf. 

NOT in myself, O Lord ! not mine the good ; 
I can not do the holy thing I would ; 
My strength, my hope, my life, are all in Thee ; 
Thou hast abundance for Thyself and me — 
Not in myself I strive. 

Not in myself, for I have tried alone 

To tread the pathway that was once Thine own ; 



96 IN- THE FA THER'S KEEPING. 



And I have fallen, and lain in pain and grief, 
And found that in myself was no relief — 
Not by myself I walk. 

Not in myself ; for I am poor and weak ; 
But oh ! what strength is gained by all who seek . 
Now, when I stumble, struck by quick alarms, 
Around me close Thine everlasting arms — 
Not in myself I stand. 

Not in myself, for brain and heart would fail 
Before life's terrors, since they both are frail ; 
E'en solitude would make my reason flee. 
If silence were not musical with Thee — 
Not in myself I trust. 

Flow in himself should any mortal trust. 
Who can not keep his living frame from dust ; 
Who can not conquer death, or 'scape disease, 
Or work out ends, or gain one hour of ease } 
Not in myself is power. 

Not to myself shall I, ungrateful, cling ; 
Lord, to Thy feet my wearied soul I bring ! 
Here is my hand — oh, clasp it. Lord, in Thine, 
And lo ! what power, what hope, what joy, are mine . 
Not in myself — in Thee. 



"iJfy times are in Thy hand, " 

AM not Strong, my Father, 
And the battle must be fought ; 



IN THE FA THER'S KEEPING, 97 



The foes are round about me, 
And the hours with peril fraught. 

Even my best endeavor 
Is weakness, and must fail : 

It needs a Power Almighty 
In the contest to prevail, 

I am not wise, my Father, 

I can not see the way ; 
My spirit walks in darkness 

While longing for the day ; 
And there is work before me. 

Which my feeble hands must do, 
But I need a higher wisdom 

Than my own to help me through. 

I am not brave, my Father, 

Filled with a hindering fear ; 
I start away in terror 

When the shaded scenes appear ; 
Yet have I need of courage 

To fight and to endure 
Till the conflict shall be ended. 

And the victory is sure. 

I am not good, my Father — 

Sin leaves its stains on all ; 
The world is full of evil. 

And I have felt its thrall ; 
Yet have I need of goodness 

And purity and grace. 
And I fain would have the beauty 

That shines in Jesus' face. 



IN THE FA THER'S KEEPING. 



But what I want, my Father, 

Can all be found in Thee ; 
My times are in Thy keeping. 

And naught can injure me ; 
Thou art the Good and Holy, 

The Strong, the Brave, the Wise, 
And I, in all my weakness, 

Lift unto Thee mine eyes. 

Whatever is before me 

Of fighting or of pain. 
Of ways that are intricate. 

Of labor without gain. 
Of pleasure or of sorrow, 

'Tis not for me to tell, 
But all is of Thy sending, 

And all Thou do'st is well. 

Oh, bless Thee ! oh, my Father ! 

For all Thou art to me ; 
For strength and light and courage 

Which I have found in Thee ; 
I bless Thee for Thy mercy, 

For the lights that round me shine. 
And that because I know Thee, 

My will is lost in Thine. 

Oh, love me still, my Father, 

Lay on me Thy commands. 
And be my life forever 

In the keeping of Thy hands ; 
No richer, greater blessing 

Hast ever Thou to give : 
Oh, Father, guide and bless me 

Until with Thee I live ? 



TRUST. 99 



r n s t. 



WE would not always come to God 
With sorrow on our lips ; 
We would not feel as though the sun 
Were always in eclipse. 

For life is very beautiful, 
The joy outweighs the sorrow ; 

And the sweet sun that smiles to-day 
Will smile again to-morrow. 

What if the toil be hard and long, 
And sometimes life seem dreary ; 

They never know how sweet is rest, 
Who never have been weaiy. 

God sends us everything in love, 
But we, in grief and blindness, 

Cast back His mercies in His face, 
And call that love unkindness. 

We will not see that God is good, 
And then we mourn in anguish ; 

We shut our eyes upon the light. 
And then in darkness languish. 

We can not ofttimes understand, 

But let us trust the rather ; 
We know that naught but good can come 

From the dear Heavenly Father. 



AFTER THE STORM. 



^fUr tl)e Storm. 

AFTER the storm, a calm ; 
After the bruise, a balm ; 
For the ill brings good, in the Lord's own time, 
And the sigh becomes the psalm. 

After the drought, the dew ; 
After the cloud, the blue ; 
For the sky will smile in the sun's good time, 
And the earth grow glad and new. 

Bloom is the heir of blight, 
Dawn is the child of night, 
And the rolling change of the busy world 
Bids the wrong yield back the right. 

i Under the fount of ill 

^ Many a cup doth fill, 

And the patient lip, though it drinketh oft, 
Finds only the bitter still. 

Truth seemeth oft to sleep, 
Blessings so slow to reap, 
Till the hours of waiting are weary to bear. 
And the courage is hard to keep ! 

Nevertheless, I know 
Out of the dark must grow 
Sooner or later, whatever is fair, 

Since the heavens have willed it so. 



LOST TREASURES. 



Cost STreasures, 

WHERE art thou gone, O my believing heart, 
That questioned not thy Maker's righteous 
will; 
But bowed thine own unto His wise behest, 
Confessed that He was God, and then was still ? 

And where art thou, O patient heart of mine. 
That bore life's ills as from the hand of Love, 

Content to tread the path, however dark. 
So it but led me to a home above ? 

And thou, sweet sympathy, that dwelt with me. 
Why hast thou from my cheerless bosom llown, 

Which once responsive throbbed to pity's call. 
And grieved for others' woes more than thine own ? 

Where art thou gone, my happy, hopeful heart. 
That trod with lightest step earth's thorny way. 

And looked exultant, through the darkest night, 
For the bright dawning of the coming day ? 

And thou, sweet Charity, that thought no ill. 
But covered o'er with love the darkest blot. 

Most dear and valued of my treasures all, 
I search for thee, alas ! and find thee not. 

Where art thou gone, my most forgiving heart. 
That counted not thy brother's sins each day. 

But with a ready love forgave them all. 
Ere for the boon his trembling lips could pray ? 



I02 ''REMEMBERED THEY HIS WORD." 



Thou art gone with the rest, the last of all 
I yielded up upon the hard-fought field, 

Where arms lay broken, and from helpless hands. 
Like worthless weapons, dropped the spear and 
shield. 

Come back to me, my treasures, from the dust 
Where thou art trampled 'neath the victor's tread. 

As spoil unheeded in the conqueror's path 
Marks out the way his fiery legions sped. 

Come back to me, my treasures, from the depths 
Where thou art wrecked, a precious argosy, 

More costly far than freights of Ophir gold, 
Or 'broidered robes of richest Tyrian dye. 

I open wide the portals of my heart, 
Return to me, my treasures, one and all. 

And gild with radiance bright the gathering shades. 
When, at the last, the eventide shall fall. 



ONE night upon a couch of pain. 
When Jesus watched with me, 
I saw my life go by again. 

New-starred for memory. 
Some blessings I had dimmed with tears 
Brightened once more that path of years. 

As smiles we pass unheeded by 
Sometimes seem newly given. 



"REMEMBERED THEY HIS WORD," 1 03 



Relighting all the wintry sky, 

That wafts a soul from heaven ; 
So all my life seemed flooded o'er 
With joy I might have had before. 

Yet I had known Thee, oh, my Lord ! 

E'er since, with sins forgiven, 
I drank Thy sweet, life-giving Word, 

So near the gates of heaven : 
Yet missed till now some lessons sweet. 
That bring me here to Thy dear feet. 

To find that care and grief and pain 

Are messengers of Thine ; 
That Thou canst walk this earth again 

In this poor life of mine ; 
And there's no path Thy feet have gone. 
But has its cross before its crown. 

Ah, could I think mid song and flowers 

To pass my happy years ? 
To shun Thee when the tempest lowers. 

Or hide me from Thy tears ? 
Forgive me. Lord : where Thou hast gone. 
My humble heart would follow on. 

Bearing each cross for Thy dear sake. 

Oh, teach me, Lord, to come 
By any path Thy love may take. 

Since all must lead me home. 
Thankful that Thou wilt take such care 
To lure Thy wandering children there. 



I04 WRA T FLEA SES GOD, 



WHAT God decrees, child of His love. 
Take patiently, though it may prove 
The storm that wrecks thy treasure here ; 
Be comforted ! Thou needst not fear 
What pleases God. 

The wisest will is God's own will ; 
Rest on this anchor, and be still ; 
For peace around thy path shall flow. 
When only wishing here below 
What pleases God. 

The truest heart is God's own heart, 
Which bids thy grief and fear depart ; 
Protecting, guiding, day and night. 
The soul that welcomes here aright 
What pleases God. 

Oh, could I sing as I desire. 
My grateful voice should never tire 
To tell the wondrous love and power 
Thus working out, from hour to hour. 
What pleases God. 

The King of kings. He rules on earth. 
He sends us sorrow here, or mirth ; 
He bears the ocean in His hand ; 
And thus we meet, on sea or land. 
What pleases God. 



A PRAYER. 105 



His Church on earth He dearly loves, 
Although He oft its sin reproves ; 
The rod itself His love can speak — 
He smites till we return to seek 
What pleases God. 

Then let the crowd around thee seize 
The joys that for a season please, 
But willingly their paths forsake, 
And for thy blessed portion take 
What pleases God. 

Thy heritage is safe in Heaven ; 
There shall the crown of joy be given ; 
There shalt thou hear and see and know 
As thou couldst never here below, 
What pleases God. 



^ Jpraper. 

LEAD me, O Lord, 
In still, safe places ; 
Let mine eyes meet 

Sweet, earnest faces ; 
Far from the scenes 

Of worldly fashion. 
Of faithless care 
And noisy passion. 

Keep me, O Lord, 
Trustful and lowly ; 

Fill me with love 
Tender and holy. 



lo6 " WHA T WIL T THO U HA VE ME DO? " 



Forget not my need 
Of Thy Fatherly pity 

Till I have gained 
The heavenly city. 



'^b3l)at toilt ®l)0tt l}aDe itte 5110?" 

OH, for a vision and a voice to lead me. 
To show me plainly where my work should lie ; 
Go where I may, fresh hindrances impede me, 
Vain and unanswered seems my earnest cry. 

Hush ! unbelieving one, but for thy blindness, 
But for thine own impatience and self-will. 

Thou wouldst see thy Master's loving-kindness. 
Who by those hindrances is leading still. 

He who of old through Phrygia and Galatia, 
Led the Apostle Paul and blessed him there, 

If He forbid to preach the Word in Asia, 
Must have prepared for thee a work elsewhere. 

Courage and Patience ! Is the Master sleeping ? 

Has He no plan, no purposes of love ? 
What though awhile His counsel He is keeping, 

It is maturing in the world above. 

Wait on the Lord, in His right hand be hidden, 
And go not forth uncalled to strive alone ; 

Shun like a sin the tempting work forbidden, 
God's love for souls be sure exceeds thine own. 



" WHA T WIL T THO U HA VE ME DO?'' 107 



None are good works for thee, but works appointed ; 

Ask to be filled with knowledge of His will, 
Cost what it may ; why live a life disjointed ? 

One work throughout, God's pleasure to fulfill. 

But if indeed some special work awaits thee, 
Canst thou afford this waiting-time to lose? 

By each successive task God educates thee, — 
What if the iron be too blunt to use ? 

Oh, thou unpolished shaft, why leave the quiver ? 

Oh, thou blunt ax, what forest canst thou hew ? 
Unsharpened sword, canst thou the oppressed de- 
liver ? 

Go back to thine own maker's forge anew. 

Submit thyself to God for preparation, 
Seek not to teach thy Master and thy Lord, 

Call it not zeal ; it is a base temptation, — 
Satan is pleased when man dictates to God. 

Down with thy pride ! With holy vengeance tram- 
ple 

On each self-flattering fancy that appears ; 
Did not the Lord Himself, for our example. 

Lie hid in Nazareth for thirty years ? 

Wait the appointed time for work appointed, 
Lest by the tempter's wiles thou be ensnared ; 

Fresh be the oil wherewith thou art anointed, — 
Let God prepare thee for the work prepared. 



REST. 



lest, 

iVEST! Rest! 
O death, I reach my hands to thee. 

Sweet angel of release ! 
Pass but thy wand across my brow, 

'T will bring me rest and peace." 

Alas! 
Thus once in weak despair I cried. 

So fierce the battle pressed. 
Fain doff my armor, and lie down 

To silent, dreamless rest. 

In vain ! 
Death heeded not my outstretched hands. 

Nor heard my frenzied call ; 
But One whose tender pitying love 

Had known, and felt it all — 

All, all.— 
The wild unrest, the ceaseless strife. 

The cruel ache and smart — 
Came, mother-like, drew my tired head 

Close to His loving heart. 

And now 
In heavenly arms at rest I lie. 

Content, and glad, and still — 
O joy to know at last that rest 

Is to accept His will ! 



THE FOUR ANCHORS. 109 



His will! 
How can I question more, or yield 

To doubts and fears again ? 
The rest I thought I ne'er could reach 

Is mine ! O sons of men ! 



*' The day is Thine^ the night also is Thine" — PsA. Ixxiv. 16. 
^'' The darkness and the light are both alike to Thee.'''' — Psa. cxxxix. 
'"'They cast four anchors out of the stern., and wished for the day,^'' 
— ^AcTS xxvii. 29. 

THE night is dark, but God, my God, 
Is here and in command ; 
And sure am I, when morning breaks, 

I shall be " at the land ;" 
And since I know the darkness is 

To Him as sunniest day, 
I'll cast the anchor Patteitce out, 
And wish — but wait — for day. 

Fierce drives the storm, but winds and waves 

Within His hand are held. 
And, trusting in Omnipotence, 

My fears are sweetly quelled. 
If wrecked, I'm in His faithful grasp : 

I'll trust Him, though He slay ; 
So, letting go the anchor Faith, 

I'll wish — but wait — for day. 

Still seem the moments dreary, long ? 
I rest upon the Lord ; 



^'AFTER'r 



I muse on His " eternal years," 
And feast upon His Word : 

His promises, so rich and great, 
Are my support and stay ; 

I'll drop the anchor Hope ahead. 
And wish — but wait — for day. 

O wisdom infinite ! O light 

And love supreme, divine ! 
How can I feel one fluttering doubt. 

In hands so dear as Thine ? 
I'll lean on Thee, my best beloved. 

My heart on Thy heart lay ; 
And casting out the anchor Love^ 

I'll wish — and wait — for day. 



AFTER the shower, the tranquil sun ; 
Silver stars when the day is done. 
After the snow, the emerald leaves ; 
After the harvest, golden sheaves. 
After the clouds, the violet sky ; 
Ouiet woods, when the wind goes by. 
After the tempest, the lull of waves ; 
After the battle, peaceful graves. 
After the knell, the wedding bells, 
Joyful greetings from sad farewells. 
After the bud, the radiant rose ; 
After our weeping, sweet repose. 
After the burden, the blissful meed ; 
After the furrow, the waking seed. 



*'AN OPEN BOOR." 



After the flight, the downy nest ; 
Over the shadowy river — rest. 



5el)oI5, 1 j^atJe 0ct Before ^Ijee an (D^jen 
iDoor/' 

THE mistakes of my life are many. 
The sins of my heart are more ; 
And I scarce can see for weeping, 
But I knock at the open door. 

I know I am weak and sinful, 

It comes to me more and more ; 
But when the dear Saviour shall bid me, 

I'll enter that open door. 

I am lowest of those who love Him, 

I am weakest of those who pray, 
But I come as He has bidden. 

And He will not say me nay. 

My mistakes His free grace will cover. 

My sins He will wash away ; 
And the feet that shrink and falter 

Shall walk through the gate of day. 

The mistakes of my life are many. 

And my spirit is sick with sin ; 
And I scarce can see with weeping. 

But the Saviour will let me in. 



PETITION. 



I know I am weak and sinful ; 

It comes to me more and more ; 
But when the dear Saviour shall bid me, 

I'll enter that open door. 



|) e t i t i n. 

MORE holiness give me, 
More sweetness within, 
More patience in suffering, 

More sorrow for sin ; 
More faith in my Saviour, 
More sense of His care ; 
More joy in His service. 
More purpose in prayer. 

More gratitude give me, 

More trust in the Lord ; 
More pride in His glory, 

More hope in His word ; 
More tears for His sorrows. 

More pains at His grief; 
More meekness in trial. 

More praise for relief. 

More purity give me, 

More strength to o'ercome ; 
More freedom from earth-stains. 

More longing for home. 
More fit for the kingdom. 

More used would I be : 
More blessed and holy, 

More, Saviour, like Thee, 



THA T I MAY KNO W HIM, 1 1 3 



*■*' I seem to know more of the Lord Jesus Christ than 0/ the most 
intimate friend I have on earth.""" — McChevne. 

LORD, let me talk with Thee of all I do. 
All that I care for, all I wish for too. 
Lord, let me prove Thy sympathy. Thy power, 
Thy loving oversight from hour to hour ! 

When I need counsel, let me ask of Thee : 

Whatever m}'- perplexity may be, 

It can not be too trivial to bring 

To One who marks the sparrow's drooping wing ; 

Nor too terrestrial, since Thou hast said 

The very hairs are numbered on our head. 

'Tis through such loopholes that the foe takes aim, 

And sparks unheeded, burst into a flame. 

Do money troubles press ? Thou canst resolve 
The doubts or dangers such concerns involve. 
Are those I love the cause of anxious care ? 
Thou canst unbind the burdens they may bear. 

Before the mysteries of Thy Word or Will, 
Thy Voice can gently bid my heart be still ; 
Since all that now is hard to understand, 
Shall be unraveled in yon heavenly land. 

Or do I mourn the oft-besetting sin, 
The tempter's wiles, that mar the peace within ? 
Present Thyself, Lord, as the absolving Priest, 
To whom confessing, I go forth released. 



114 I SOUGHT THEE. 



Do weakness, weariness, disease, invade 
This earthly house, which Thou Thyself hast made ? 
Thou only, Lord, canst touch the hidden spring 
Of mischief, and attune the jarring string. 

Would I be taught what Thou wouldst have me give, 
The needs of those less favored to relieve ? 
Thou canst so guide my hand that I shall be 
A liberal, " cheerful giver," Lord, like Thee. 

Of my life's mission do I stand in doubt. 
Thou knowest, and canst clearly point it out. 
Whither I go, do Thou Thyself decide. 
And choose the friends and servants at my side. 

The books I read I would submit to Thee, 
Let them refresh, instruct, and solace me. 
I v/ould converse with Thee from day to day. 
With heart intent on what Thou hast to say : 

And through my pilgrim walk, whate'er befall. 

Consult with Thee, O Lord, about it all. 

Since Thou art willing thus to condescend 

To be my intimate, familiar friend. 

Oh, let me to the great occasion rise. 

And count Thy friendship life's most glorious prize ! 



I SOUGHT Thee when my heart was low ; 
I found Thee, and my hopes revived. 
And all the world from me shall know 
What comfort I from Thee derived ; 



A CRY OF THE HEART. 115 



All that I needed, all and more, 
Thy presence did to me restore. 

I laid my burden at Thy feet, 
My head upon Thy tender breast ; 

Thy name of love I did repeat, 
And Thou didst understand the rest ; 

All that I needed, all and more, 

Thy presence did to me restore. 

I wept the sorrow of my heart. 
And Thou mine eyes didst gently dry ; 

I sighed through fear that we must part, 
But Thou didst whisper, " Ever nigh ; ' 

It was enough, I asked no more, 

Thy voice did all my life restore. 

And now that life to Thee I'll give 
With calmer trust and brighter joy ; 

In Thee, and for Thee, I will live. 
To do Thy will my sole employ ; 

Thus most secure to part no more 

With that sweet joy Thou didst restore. 



% OTrs of i[)z f eart. 

OH, for a mind more clear to see, 
A hand to work more earnestly 
For every good intent ! 
Oh, for a Peter's fiery zeal. 
His conscience always quick to feel, 
And instant to repent ! 



Ii6 A CRY OF THE HEART, 



Oh, for a faith more strong and true 

Than that which doubting Thomas knew, — 

A faith assured and clear ; 
To know that He who for us died. 
Rejected, scorned, and crucified, 

Lives, and is with us here. 

Oh, for the blessing shed upon 
That humble, loving, sinful one. 

Who, when He sat at meat. 
With precious store of ointment came ; 
Hid from her Lord her face for shame. 

And laid it on His feet. 

Oh, for that look of pity seen 
By her, the guilty Magdalene, 

Who stood her Judge before ; 
And listening, for her comfort heard 
The tender, sweet, forgiving word : 

Go thou, and sin no i7iore ! 

Oh, to have stood with James and John, 
Where brightness round the Saviour shone. 

Whiter than light of day ; 
When by the voice and cloud dismayed, 
They fell upon the ground afraid, 

And wist not what to say. 

Oh, to have been the favored guest 
That leaned at supper on His breast. 

And heard his dear Lord say : 
He who shall testify of Me, 
The Comforter, ye may not see 

Except I go away. 



FAITHFUL LO VE. 1 1 7 



Oh, for the honor won by her. 

Who early to the sepulcher 

Hastened in tearful gloom ; 
To whom he gave His high behest, 
To tell to Peter and the rest, 

Their Lord had left the tomb. 

Oh, for the vision that sufficed 
That first blest martyr after Christ, 

And gave a peace so deep, 
That while he saw with raptured eyes 
Jesus with God in Paradise, 

He, praying, fell asleep. 

But if such heights I may not gain, 
O Thou, to whom no soul in vain 

Or cries, or makes complaints ; 
This only favor grant to me, — 
That I, of sinners chief, may be 

The least of all Thy saints ! 



-faitl^ful Coue. 

I KNELT before my Father's throne with sins and 
cares opprest, 
And asked Him to remove the load and give my 

spirit rest ; 
For why should I be troubled,when it is so plain to me. 
That Christ has borne my sorrows, and that He loves 
me faithfully } 

He loves me faithfully. 
I know it — oh, I know it ; for He has died for me. 



Il8 FAITHFUL LOVE. 



And when I prayed my heart was full, but the half 

I didn't tell, 
For v/hy should I be talking when He knows it all 

so well ? 
The burdened heart, the sorrowing sigh, the broken 

sob, the uplifted eye, — 
He sees, He hears, He knows it all ; for He loves me 

faithfully. 

He loves me faithfully. 
He knows it — oh, He knows it all, without one word 

from me. 

The fear that some beloved one may fail to be for- 
given, 

That I may walk the golden streets and miss that 
one in heaven, — 

I thought of how " He knoweth us," and, from His 
throne on high, 

Rememb'ring that we are but dust, looks down with 
pitying eye. 

For He loves me faithfully. 

I know it — oh, I know it, and He will hear my cry. 

I'm v/aiting for an answer, while humbly I adore 

Him; 
I'm list'ning for the still small voice, and softly walk 

before Him ; 
And for a light between the clouds, I'm looking 

wistfully. 
Oh, lead my roving heart, dear Lord, to love Thee 

faithfully. 

To love Thee faithfully. 
Thou knowest, O Thou knowest, I would love Thee 

faithfully. 



WHA T IS MY WORK TO- DA Y? 1 19 



tol)at is illg tXlork ^o-JUas? 

TO search for truth and wisdom, 
To live for Christ alone ; 
To run my race unburdened, 

The goal my Saviour's throne ; 
To view by faith the promise, 
While earthly hopes decay ; 
To serve the Lord with gladness — 
This is my work to-day. 

To shun the world's allurements. 

To bear my cross therein, 
To turn from all temptation. 

To conquer every sin ; 
To linger, calm and patient. 

Where duty bids me stay, 
To go where God may lead me — 

This is my work to-day. 

To keep my troth unshaken, 

Though others may deceive ; 
To give with willing pleasure, 

Or still v/ith joy receive ; 
To bring the mourner comfort. 

To wipe sad tears away ; 
To help the timid doubter — 

This is my work to-day. 

To bear another's weakness. 
To soothe another's pain ; 

To cheer the heart repentant. 
And to forgive again ; 



AN HUMBLE SPIRIT. 



To commune with the thoughtful. 
To guide the young and gay ; 

To profit all in season — 
This is my work to-day. 

I think not of to-morrow. 

Its trial or its task ; 
But still, with childlike spirit. 

For present mercies ask. 
With each returning morning, 

I cast old things away ; 
Life's journey lies before me — 

My prayer is for to-day. 



^n j§umbk Spirit. 

I KNOW my God He hath no need of me. 
Nor any instmment to work His will ; 
Wherefore I think I should more grateful be. 
That He doth use me still. 

I know full well the little I can do 

Is but as naught in His most mighty plan ; 

Wherefore I must work sore, and all life through 
Do all the good I can. 

I know that time itself is but a fleck 
On the wide waves of His eternity ; 

Wherefore I can no moment lose, but reck 
That I may constant be. 



THE BOA TMAN'S LESSON. 



Wc\z boatman's %t%%Q\\. 

THE little boat went gliding on. 
And then the winds arose ; 
The twilight faded on the hills, 

The day began to close. 
The boatman spoke, as much I feared 
Amid the flashing foam : 
" Oh, master, give it up to me. 
And I will row you home ! " 

So I sat still in helplessness, 

Though numbed in every limb, 
Now up, now down among the waves. 

And gave it up to him. 
And skillfully he turned the prow, 

And plied the bending oar. 
Until, just as the moon arose, 

He brought me safe to shore. 

And evermore that boatman's words. 

Amid the winds severe, 
As up and down the world I walk. 

Are ringing in my ear : 
In sun, in rain, in dark, in light. 

Where'er m}^ footsteps roam : 
* Oh, master, give it up to me. 

And I will row you home ! " 

Tis thus with Him who came to save 

The ruined sons of men ; 
We are to trust His power, as I 

Believed the boatman then. 



THE ABIDING ONE. 



And though the winds may smite the waves, 

And angry surges foam, 
The loving Christ of Nazareth 

Will guide His people home. 



SOME hearts are like a quiet village street. 
Few and well known the passers to and fro , 
Some like a busy city's market-place, 
And countless forms and faces come and go. 

Into my life unnumbered steps have trod. 
Though brief that life, and nearing now its close. 

At first, the forms of phantasies and dreams, 
And then the varied tread of friends and foes. 

Coming and going — ah ! there lay the pang. 
That when my heart had blossomed and unlocked 

Its wealth to greet the loved familiar step, 
Lo ! it was gone, and only echoes mocked 

My listening ear. But oh ! there came one step. 
So soft and slow, which said, " I pass not by, 

But stay with thee forever, if thou wilt, 
Amid this constant instability." 

Then in His eyes I saw the love I craved — 
Love past my craving— love that died for me. 

He took my hand, and in its gentle strength 
I learned the joy of leaning utterly. 



THE MASTER CALLS. 123 



Still do the countless footsteps come and go ; 

Still with a sigh the echoes die away : 
But One abides, and fills the solitude 

With music and with beaut)^, night and day. 



(^l)e iHaster OlaUs. 

THE Master calls thee ! Oh, thrice blessed words, 
And can it be they are addressed to me ? / 

How gladly, quickly will I leave all else. 
And rise, my Lord, to follow after Thee ! 

So sang I, quite unmindful that the path 

Is ofttimes strange that leads the surest home ; 

Exultant in the first fresh burst of joy. 

It was enough to know my Lord said, " Come ! " 

The skies grew dark, the rough and angry winds 

Dashed cherished hopes about in reckless glee ; ^ 

While through the midnight gloom I heard the words, 
" This is the way if thou would'st follow Me. 

" Ease, wealth, and honor lovest thou more than 
Christ ? 

The things that lure souls on to endless waste ? 
If not, then come thou now apart with Him, 

And bear the cross, His cup of sorrow taste." 

With faltering footsteps and with trembling heart 
I left the sunshine, praying, " If I must ^ 

Walk in the darksome way, O Lord, draw near 3 

And hold my hand, in Thee alone I trust ! " 



124 DENIAL. 



Good Master, Marah's waters do become 

Sweet to my lips when Thy hand holds the cup ; 

All, all is well, for in the gloom I find 
Thy loving hand my soul is lifting up. 

In the deep shadows I have long since proved 
The truth unfailing which Thy grace unfolds ; 

Prove Thou my thankfulness for gifts bestowed. 
And my submission when Thy love withholds. 



WE look with scorn on Peter's thrice-told lie ! 
Boldly we say, " Good brother ! you nor I, 
So near the sacred Lord, the Christ indeed, 
Had dared His name and marvelous grace deny." 

O futile boast ! O haughty lips, be dumb ! 
Unheralded by boisterous trump or drum. 

How oft 'mid silent eves, and midnight chimes. 
Vainly to us our pleading Lord hath come. 

Knocked at our hearts, striven to enter there ; 
But we, poor slaves of mortal sin and care. 

Sunk in deep sloth, or bound by spiritual sleep. 
Heard not the voice divine, the tender prayer ! 

Ah ! well for us if some late spring-tide hour 
Faith still may bring, with blended shine and 
shower ; 
If through warm tears a late remorse may shed. 
Our wakened souls put forth 07ie heavenly flower ! 



ONE BY ONE. 1 25 



THEY are gathering homeward from every land. 
One by one ; 
As their weary feet touch the shining strand. 

One by one 
Their brows are clothed in a golden crown. 
Their travel-stained garments are all laid down, 
And, clothed with white raiment, they rest on the 

mead, 
Where the Lamb loveth His chosen to lead, 
One by one. 

Before they rest they pass through the strife. 

One by one ; 
Through the waters of death they enter life, 

One by one ; 
To some are the floods of the river still. 
As they ford their way to the heavenly hill ; 
To others the waves run fiercely wild, 
Yet all reach the home of the undefiled, 

One by one. 

We, too, shall come to the river side, 

One by one ; 
We are nearer its water each eventide, 

One by one ; 
We can hear the noise and dash of the stream, 
Now and again through life's deep dream ; 
Sometimes the floods o'er the banks o'erflow ; 
Sometimes in ripples the small waves go. 
One by one. 



126 RE SIGN A TION. 



Jesus, Redeemer ! we look to Thee, 

One by one ; 
We lift our voices tremblingly, 

One by one ; 
The waves of the river are dark and cold, 
We knovz not the spots where our feet may hold ; 
Thou, who didst pass through in deep midnight, 
Strengthen us, send us the staff and the light, 

One by one. 

Plant Thou Thy feet beside us as we tread. 

One by one ; 
On Thee let us lean each drooping head. 

One by one. 
Let Thy mighty arm round us be twined. 
We'll cast all our fears and cares to the wind. 
Saviour ! Redeemer ! v/ith Thee full in view. 
Smilingly, gladsomely, shall we pass through. 

One by one. 



Uesignation. 

SO hard ! so hard ! all through the weary day, 
I've struggled for the strength and grace to say, 
" Thy will be done." 

I can not say it ! still my aching heart 
Rebels, nor can it yet consent to part 
With v/hat it loves. 

Lord, hear ! Lord, help ! Lo ! at Thy feet I lie ! 
Oh ! hear this once my cry of agony ! 
Spare me this blow 



HIGH CALLING OF GOD IN CHRIST. 127 



Or else, O Christ ! who didst not scorn to pray- 
That Thy too bitter cup might pass away, 
Yet wast resigned, 

Teach me, Thy servant, warm with anxious fear, 

To pray, with Thee, that sweet and awful prayer, 

" Thy will be done." 



\\t %\^\\ OlaUing of C[5ob in €I)rist Icsus 

T ant t/te Almighty God ; walk before me^ and he thou perfect.'"'' 

LORD, dost Thou care to have my soul 
Before Thee in the Light — 
As thou art, true and pure and whole. 
As Thou art, wise and right ? 

Hast Thou indeed so high an aim 

For one who looked so low — 
A way above the reach of shame 

Wherein my heart may go ? 

Then fill the fullness of my gaze 

From that sure sight of Thine, 
Which girds the sinner with Thy praise, 

And makes his life Divine. 

Thee only shall Thy servant claim. 

And where Thou art to be. 
His power Thy own Almighty name. 

And all his springs in Thee. 



128 ''CLOSER TO ME!" 



Watch me for this amid the fear 

That time must yet fulfill ; 
Watch me through hopes that disappear 

At Thy redeeming will. 

Thy purpose in me shall not fail 

With my declining breath ; 
Thy thought is that which shall prevail 

Against the bars of death. 

The thing that dieth, let it die ; 

Let that which goes depart ; 
But keep me seeing with Thine eye. 

And thinking with Thy heart. 



'' or loser ta iilc ! " 

CLOSER, my Child, to Me, 
Closer to Me ! 
It is a Father's hand 

That chastens thee ; 
From every danger free, 
My arms shall gather thee 
Closer to Me ! 

Deepens the pain and strife, 
The anguish sore ? 

Wrestles the tired soul 

With Life no more ? 

Rest waiteth here for thee — 

Cling, weary one, to Me, 
Closer to Me ! 



SOMETHING FOR GOD, 129 



Come, with thy great unrest. 

Thy pain unfold ; 
Come, with Life's problems vexed. 

And Truth behold ! 
Come, through the golden sea 
Of Christ's dear love for thee, 

Closer to Me ! 



00met[)inj9 for ^olr. 

SOMETHING, my God, for Thee— 
Something for Thee ! 
That each day's setting sun may bring 
Some penitential offering ; 
In Thy dear name some kindness done — 
To Thy dear love some wanderer won — 
Some trial meekly borne for Thee, 
Dear Lord, for Thee ! 

Something, my God, for Thee — 

Something for Thee ! 
That to Thy gracious throne may rise 
Sweet incense from some sacrifice ; 
Uplifted eyes, undimmed by tears ; 
Uplifted faith, unstained by fears ; 

Hailing each joy as light from Thee, 

Dear Lord, for Thee ! 

Something, my God, for Thee — 

Something for Thee ! 
For the great love that Thou hast given — 
For the dear hope of Thee and heaven, 
9 



130 THE THINGS I MISS. 



My soul her first allegiance brings, 
And upward plumes her heavenward wings 
Nearer to Thee ! 



^\\z filings I iHiss. 

AN easy thing, O Power Divine, 
To thank Thee for these gifts of Thine : 
For summer's sunshine, winter's snow, 
The hearts that burn, the thoughts that glow ; 
But when shall I attain to this. 
To thank Thee for the things I miss ? 

For all young fancy's early gleams. 
The dreamed-of joys, that still are dreams, 
Hopes unfulfilled and pleasures known 
Through others' fortunes not my ov/n. 
And blessings seen that are not given. 
And ne'er will be, this side Heaven. 

Had I too shared the joys I see, 
Would there have been a Heaven for me ? 
Should I have felt Thy Being near. 
Had I possessed what I hold dear ? 
My deepest knowledge, highest bliss. 
Have come perchance from things I miss. 

To-day has brought an hour of calm ; 
Grief turns to blessing, pain to balm ; 
I feel a power above my will 
That draws me, draws me onward still. 
And now my heart attains to this. 
To thank Thee for the things I miss. 



"MY TIMES ARE IN THY IIANDr 131 



"iHg ®iines are in ^\\^ j^anb/' 

YEARS came and went, and with me all was well, 
My bark sailed smoothly o'er life's treacherous 
seas. 
Health, peace, and comfort crowned each passing 
day. 
And I had visions bright of wealth and ease. 
But the fierce tempest rose, and all was wrecked. 
My strongest cables proved but ropes of sand ; 
Then, through the darkness, Lord, I cried to Thee, 
" My times are in Thy hand ! " 

I gathered all my strength the tide to stem. 

To snatch some fragments from the tossing wave ; 

But sickness came and laid me helpless by — 
Perhaps would bear me quickly to m}'- grave ; 

Still to Thy Word for refuge turned my soul : 
Lord, dost Thou call me to the silent land ? 

Or shall Thy voice of healing bid me live ? 
•* My times are in Thy hand." 

Slowly from fevered couch again I rise. 
With wasted strength the struggle to renew ; 

Ah, how shall faltering steps and fainting heart 
Endure life's toilsome journey to pursue ? 

My bleeding feet a flinty path must tread. 
My hopes may still be dashed upon the strand ; 

Yet one sweet thought shall keep me from despair — 
" My times are in Thy hand." 

So will I onward press till life is o'er. 
And Death's stern mandate doth my steps arrest ; 



132 IN DARKNESS. 



Then earth for heaven shall be the glad exchange — 

This weary toil for that eternal rest. 
But when, or where, or how that change shall come, 

Whispers my anxious soul with keen demand. 
It matters not, dear Lord, Thou knowest well — 
" My times are in Thy hand." 



In lUarkness. 

OH, for the seeing eye. 
Oh, for the hearing ear ! 
To know, though bitter blasts go by, 
Though stormy clouds are in the sky. 
That God, my God, is near ! 

Darkness and sore dismay 

Have compassed me about : 
As one who in a lonesome way 
Longs for the breaking of the day 
To put his fears to rout, — 

Yet knows that day, alas ! 

Will only show more plain 
The rugged road he has to pass. 
The frowning rocks, the black morass, 

The danger and the pain, — 

So I, from hour to hour, 

A dreary path have trod : — 
Oh, but to feel the gracious power, 
That in the sunshine or the shower, 
Still draws me up to God ! 



A VOICE IN THE NIGHT. 133 



Give me a little space, 

Lord, of my life, to see 
The tender sweetness of Thy face. 
And suffer in this darksome place 

One gleam of light to be. 

Sorrow and loss and pain 

Have been my frequent share ; 
Yea, and will be my share again. 
But shall I wring my hands in vain 
For blank, unanswered prayer ? 

Give me the seeing eye. 

Give me the hearing ear ; 
And with Thy comfort satisfy 
The yearning heart till by and by 
I find my Saviour here ! 



I HEARD a voice in the night : 
" Lord, why doth Thine anger burn ? 
Thou hast hidden Thee from our sight. 
Wilt Thou not soon return ? " 



Through the silence there came a sound 
Like a silver trumpet clear : 

* Call, for He may be found. 

Seek Him, for He is near. 

* In thy darkness and thy dearth 

Thou hast turned from Him away ; 



134 THE JOY OF INCOMPLETENESS. 



But the sun is as near the earth 
In the night as in the day. 

" Lo ! the stars that climb the skies. 

Their day has already begun ; 

'Tis the darkening world that lies 

Between thee and the sun." 



%\\t I02 of Incatnpkteness. 

IF all our lives were one broad glare 
Of sunlight, clear, unclouded ; 
If all our path were smooth and fair, 

By no soft gloom enshrouded ; 
If all life's flowers were fully blown 

Without the sweet unfolding, 
And happiness were rudely thrown 
On hands too weak for holding — 
Should we not miss the twilight hours. 

The gentle haze and sadness ? 
Should we not long for storms and showers 
To break the constant gladness ? 

If none were sick and none were sad. 

What service could we render } 
I think if we were always glad. 

We scarcely could be tender. 
Did our beloved never need 

Our patient ministration. 
Earth would grow cold, and miss, indeed. 

Its sweetest consolation ; 



' I HAVE CALLED YOU FRIENDSr 1 35 



If sorrow never claimed our heart. 
And every wish v/ere granted, 

Patience would die, and hope depart- 
Life would be disenchanted. 

And yet in heaven is no more night, 

In heaven is no more sorrow ! 
Such unimagined new delight 

Fresh grace from pain will borrow — 
As the poor seed that underground 

Seeks its true light above it, 
Not knowing v/hat will then be found 
When sunbeams kiss and love it. 
So we in darkness upward grow, 
And look and long for heaven. 
But can not picture it below. 
Till more of light be given. 



FROM the fine fret of little care. 
That gnaweth bitterly 
Upon the soul grown sore to it, 

I turn, O Christ, to Thee ! 
O Thou, the Careworn ! canst Thou turn 
As longingly to me ? 

Beaten and bruised with sorrows past. 

From those to come I flee 
Reluctant as a frightened child. 

And clinging unto Thee, 
O Man of Sorrows ! can Thy pain 

Find any rest in me 1 



136 MORNING— NOON— NIGHT, 



Worn with the deeper wear of sin 
Graven on the soul of me ; 

In such a marred and shattered thing, 
O perfect Heart ! canst see 

A nature fit by any cost 
To be a frze?td to Thee ? 

Is that the meaning of the Word 
Which says Thou iovesi me ? 

By the deep stirring of my heart 
In yearning after Thee, 

By all the longing of the life 
That leaneth unto Thee, 

As human friend with human friend. 

Can I so think of Thee ? 
Like human love with human love 

Will heavenly rapture be ? 
Such more than human blessedness 

Be meant in truth for me ! 

1*11 bring the glorious vision down. 
It shall commune with me, 

Till for Thy dear love's sake at last 
It teacheth me to be. 

Even me — unworthy, worn, and sad — 
A cmnfort unto Thee. 



i!!l0rninig— J^0on— Mjg I) t. 

* OD called me in the morning of my day, 
^ And said, "Thy path of life is bright with 
flowers ; 



MORNING— NOON— NIGHT. 137 



But leave them blooming on their short-lived way, 
And seek my gifts, that fade not with the hours." 

But ah ! the path of prayer seemed steep and long — 
The coming of these heavenly gifts delayed : 

The present wooed me, and the groves among, 
Crowned with their blossoms, to and fro I strayed. 

Again He called me in the noontide hours, 
When clouds had gathered thickly o'er the sky. 

All drenched and sodden lay the sunless flowers. 
Cowering beneath the storm that swept them by. 

I answered : " Soon the sun must reappear ; 

The joys of earth will lift their heads again ; 
I am too sad to pray, and need for cheer 

Music and laughter, and the voice of men." 

And these clouds passed ; but as I watching stood. 
Rose others, ever darkening, in their room. 

Till day sank down behind the western wood. 
And bars of sunset reddened through the gloom. 

I cried, " Dear Lord, oh, now Thy gifts bestow ! 

Yet not too late I see their worth aright. 
Though gone the strength that made my morning 
glow. 

And eve be hastening swiftly down to-night." 

And He made answer : " Seeking now, so late } 
Yes ; there is room, and pardon still for thee ! 

Long has my love been waiting at thy gate 
The hour when thou wouldst turn and come to 
me. 



138 A LITTLE WHILE. 



" Nor age nor weakness chills the contrite heart, 
Wherein to dwell I evermore delight ; 

Though in tkez'r gladness thou may'st not have part, 
Who all day long have labored in my sight. 

" See how they come, bringing their golden sheaves 
To lay them down, rejoicing, at my feet ! 

Thine are the worthless blossoms — withered leaves — 
Of years that brought to me no offering sweet. 

" Yes, o'er thy past the cleansing blood shall flow ; 

The quickening breath shall give thy soul new birth ; 
And ev'n from thy weak lips may others knov/ 

The Father's welcome, and the Saviour's worth." 

Who comes to Jesus, Jesus will receive, 
Though, while he comes, death's shadows o'er him 
fall; 

But even in endless bliss this thought may live — 
" Nought have I given to Him, who gave me All ! " 



a Cittle tol}ile. 

A LITTLE while with tides of dark and light 
The moon shall fill ; 
Warm autumn's gold be changed to shrouding white 

And winter's chill. 
A little while shall tender human flowers 

In beauty blow ; 
And ceaselessly through shade and sunny hours 
Death's harvest grow. 



' DOE YE NEXTE THYNGEr 139 



A little while shall tranquil planets speed 

Round central flame ; 
New empires spring and pass, new names succeed 

And lapse from fame. 
A little while shall cold star-tapers burn 

Through time's brief night ; 
Then shall my soul's beloved One return 

With day-spring bright. 

How oft in golden dreams I see Him stand, 

I list His voice. 
As winning largess from His lifted hand 

The poor rejoice : 
But waking bears that vision dear away, 

My better part, 
And leaves me to this pale and empty day. 

This longing heart. 
I can not see Thee, but I love Thee. Oh, 

Thine eyes that read 
The deepest secrets of the spirit, know 

'Tis love indeed ! 
A little while ; but, ah ! how long it seems ! 

My Jesus, come, 
Surpass the rapture of my sweetest dreams. 

And take me home I 



FROM an old English parsonage, 
Down by the sea, 
There came, in the twilight, 
A message to me ; 



I40 ''DOE YE NEXTE THYNGEl 



Its quaint Saxon legend, 

Deeply engraven, 
Hath, as it seems to me, 

Teaching from Heaven ; 
And through the hours 

The quiet words ring, 
Like a low inspiration, 

" Doe ye nexte thynge.'* 

Many a questioning, 

Many a fear. 
Many a doubt, 

Hath its quieting here. 
Moment by moment. 

Let down from Heaven, 
Time, opportunity. 

Guidance are given ; 
Fear not to-morrows. 

Child of the King ; 
Trust them with Jesus, 

" Doe ye nexte thynge." 

Oh, He would have thee 

Daily more free. 
Knowing the might 

Of thy Royal degree ; 
Ever in waiting. 

Glad for His call ; 
Tranquil in chastening. 

Trusting through all. 
Comings and goings 

No turmoil need bring ; 
His all thy future — 

" Doe ye nexte thynge." 



LOOK NO MORE WITHIN. 141 



Do it immediately, 

Do it with prayer, 
Do it reliantly, 

Casting off care ; 
Do it with reverence. 

Tracing His hand 
Who hath placed it before thee 

With earnest command. 
Stayed on Omnipotence, 

Safe 'neath His wing. 
Leave all resultings — 

" Doe ye nexte thynge." 

Looking to Jesus ; 

Ever serener, 
Working or suffering. 

Be thy demeanor ! 
In the shade of His presence. 

The rest of His calm, 
The light of His countenance. 

Live out thy psalm. 
Strong in His faithfulness. 

Praise Him and sing ; 
Then, as He beckons thee, 

" Doe ye nexte thynge." 



Cooli no JHore toitl)in. 

LOOK no more within ! 
There is only sin ; 
Lost, the Father could not have you : 
So His only Son He gave you ; 
Look to Jesus, He will save you ; 



142 TO ONE OF LITTLE FAITH. 



Look to Him, the work is done : 
You are saved in Christ the Son. 

Look no more within ! 
There is only sin : 
Cast the sad, sad past behind you ; 
Let the Tempter no more blind you ; 
Nor within his prisons grind you ; 
Call earth's richest gain but loss : 
Fix your eye upon the Cross ! 

Look no more within ! 
There is only sin : 
Help from self you can not borrow ; 
Nor atone for sin and sorrow ; 
Nor make ready for the morrow ; 
Only look ; your soul shall live : 
Free salvation God will give. 

Look no more within ! 
There is only sin : 
All your help from self disowning, 
Leave your sighing and your groaning ; 
Look to Christ, the Lamb atoning ; 
He will bear your sins away : 
He's God's new and living Way ! 



OTo (U>ne of fittU iTaitl). 

"/ said^ O that I hud wings like a dove : for then would I fly away 
and he at rest.''^ 



N 



AY, friend, endure with meekness 
The ills of mortal life, — 



TO ONE OF LITTLE FAITH. 143 



Its loneliness and weakness, 

Its bitterness and strife. 
Seek not to rest thy spirit 

Upon its surging wave, 
Nor with its scalding waters 

Thy fevered brow to lave. 

Though trusted hearts may waver. 

Grow weary and estranged. 
Thy Father's loving favor. 

Unwearied and unchanged. 
Shall be thy sure protection, 

Though fears and foes invade : 
Trusting in His affection 

Thou canst not be dismayed. 

What though thy soul be riven 

By Earth's appalling wrong, 
Faint not ! To thee is given 

" To suffer and be strong." 
Look not for sign or token ; 

The promise is secure : 
The word which God has spoken 

Forever shall endure ! 

Press forward ! Never falter 

Where Truth betrayed, enthralled, 
Before her blood-stained altar, 

Invokes the Throne of God ! 
Let no dark thoughts confound thee ; 

On yonder heights sublime 
The hosts of God surround thee ; 

Trust Him and wait His time. 



144 BLIGHT— BLOOM. 



Li 



BUgljt— !3l00ttt. 



-/IFE hath its barren years ; — 
When blossoms fall untimely down ; 
When ripened fruitage fails to crown 
The summer toil ; when nature's frown 
Looks only on our tears. 

Life hath its faithless days, 
The golden promise of a morn 
That seemed for light and gladness born, 
Meant only noontide wreck and scorn. 

Hushed harp instead of praise. 

Life hath its valleys too. 
Where we must walk with vain regret, 
With mourning clothed, with wild rain wet,' 
Toward sunlight hopes that soon may set 

All quenched in pitying dew. 



Life hath its harvest moons, 
Its tasseled corn and purple weighted vine ; 
Its gathered sheaves of grain, the blessed sign 
Of plenteous reaping, bread and pure rich wine 

Full hearts for harvest tunes. 

Life hath its hopes fulfilled ; 
Its glad fruitions, its blest answered prayer. 
Sweeter for waiting long, whose holy air 
Indrawn to silent souls breathes forth in rare 

Grand speech, by joy distilled. 



THE ALTERED MOTTO. 145 



Life hath its Tabor heights ; 
Its lofty mounts of heavenly recognition. 
Whose unveiled glories flash to earth munition 
Of love and truth, and clearer intuition. 

Hail ! mount of all delights ! 



^\\t ^IterelJ iHottcr. 

OH, the bitter shame and sorrow 
That a time could ever be 
When I let the Saviour's pity 
Plead in vain, and proudly answered : 
*'All of selfy and no7ie of Thee!" 

But He found me. I beheld Him 

Bleeding on the accursed tree. 
Heard Him pray : " Forgive them, Father ' 
And my wistful heart said faintly : 
"So7ne of self, and some of Thee f " 

Day by day His tender mercy. 

Healing, helping, full and free. 
Sweet and strong, and, ah ! so patient. 
Brought me lower, while I whispered : 
**Less of self and more of Thee I " 

Higher than the highest heavens. 

Deeper than the deepest sea, 
Lord, Thy love at last hath conquered : 
Grant me now my soul's desire — 

"None of self, and all of Thee I " 



146 OUR FATHER. 



0ttr iFatljer. 

OTHOU whom we are taught, in faith, to call 
Our Father, glad in our dear right we come 
With mind, with soul, with spirit, bringing all 
To learn accord with Thee — life's perfect sum ; 
Not as a slave, but as Thy child, we hear 
Thy voice, and find in perfect love no fear. 

The spirit-blind, who with a master's key. 

Unlock new wonders in Thy universe. 
By all their searching can not find out Thee — 
The mighty to create, confine, disperse ; 
Their awe forbids Thee name — they give Thee 

none, 
Teach them to say " Our Father," let Thy will 
be done. 

What could we call Thee by Thy works alone ? 

Science stands mute before them, known in part, 
'Tis love hath made the high prerogative our own 
To say, " Our Father who in heaven art ! " 
Heaven is Thy kingdom that shall rise within. 
When hearts elect to let Thy reign begin. 

Dear name that binds us to the Infinite, 

That grants us heirship to a grander life ! 
It holds us safe, even while we whisper it, 
And hushes into peace all sense of strife. 
Our Father cares for us, O restful thought — 
O breath of balm, with heavenly healing fraught ! 



THE THREE WATCHWORDS. 147 



Our Father, we are weary, let us rest ; 

Thou knowest how far the tired feet have sped ; 

The way seemed dark and rough, Thou knowest best. 

We only know the listless hand — the aching head — 

The trusting heart, that says Thy love will keep, 

Dear Father, even while Thy well-beloved sleep. 



\\xzz toatclitDDrba. 

"^O watch, to wait, to work ; 
Ah, me ! the fiery sun. 
The level, treeless, barren, dew-drained fields- 
I would the Work was done ! 



JC 



To watch, to work, to wait ; 
Ah, me ! the tedious roar 
Of wreck-strewn oceans over-roofed with clouds — 
I would the Watch was o'er ! 

To wait, to work, to watch ; 
Ah, me ! Thou absent Friend, 
Comest Thou quickly ? So Thou saidst ; I would 
The Waiting had an end ! 

My soul, be still and strong : 
Sight follows after faith. 
In all advancement of the true and good, 
He Cometh as He saith. 

My soul, be still and strong ; 
Here on Thy Lord's estate 
No place is useless, no experience vain. 

Work on ; Watch on ; and Wait ! 



148 ASTRAY. 



BEWILDERED, Father, at Thy feet 
I fall to-day, 
Seeing two paths, of thorns and sweet. 

In parted way. 
And weary, blinded, sore distrest, 
I humbly pray 

For Thy behest. 

Adown this vista clusters fruit 

Tempting and bright ; 
Can it be true, from branch and root 

Spreads poisonous blight ? 
Father, the precious boon bestow 

To heal my sight. 

That I may know ! 

And there, a bleak road stretches far. 

In cold gray air. 
Wherein I see no single star 

To make it fair — 
Oh, tell me, is tlie narrow way 

Always so bare 

Of golden ray ? 

I scarcely dare to look upon 

The ambered path. 
So soft it smiles within the sun, 

So much it hath 
Of joy to make the other seem 

Fulfillment rath. 

Of some fell dream. 



RAISING OF JAIRUS' DAUGHTER. 149 



Surely my feet were never fixed 

In truest way, 
To hold me thus two roads betwixt 

In sore dismay ! 
In fear of wrong, yet doubt of right. 

Mistrusting day 

And dreading night. 

Yet, Father, if Thou wilt but guide 

We need not mourn. 
Whatever bitterness betide ! 

The sharpest thorn 
Is not all painful, if the while 

The flesh is torn 

We see Thy smile. 

The sun-warmed vines must all decay, 

Unblest, or blest — 
Lead, Father, lead whichever v/ay 

Thou seest best ; 
The longest way is short that yields 

Eternal rest 

In heavenly fields. 



Sri)C Raising of lairtts' HDaitjgljter. 

THE boat that bore the Master had 
Crossed the silver sea, 
And all along the mountain paths 
Of rugged Galilee 



150 RAISING OF JAIRUS' DAUGHTER. 



Were sounds of voices eager-pitched. 
Was throng of hurrying feet, 

For then, as now, were weary hearts, 
And Jesus' words were sweet. 

With passion-freighted earnestness. 

Intense and clear as flame. 
Through tumult cleaving swift its way, 

One prayer of pleading came : 
■' My little daughter lieth sick ; 

She lieth near to death ; 
Oh, on her lay Thy gentle hands — 

Restore her fainting breath ! " 

The stately ruler bowed his head 

Before the Nazarene, 
And meekly led the way for Him 

The surging ranks between. 
But ere they reached the stricken house. 

Was message brought of woe ! 
* Thy daughter even now is dead ; 

Vex not the Master so ! " 

Dark grew the father's face with grief, 

With tears his eyes were dim ; 
Who did not know this darling child 

Was all the world to him ? 
How could they call her dead ? — the dear, 

The beautiful, the bright ; 
For him the summer lost its bloom, 

The noonday lost its light. 

Then tenderly unto his thought, 
As if to soothe its ache, 



RAISING OF y AIR US' DAUGHTER. 151 



" Be not afraid ; still keep thy faith," 
With power the Master spake, 

Though long and keen the mourners' wail 
Was borne upon the air — 

The bitter cry of agony, 

The protest of despair. 

The Master hushed the clamor 

By the peace upon His face, 
As up the stair He softly passed. 

And stood within the place 
Where, wan and pale, the maiden lay, 

A lily frozen there. 
And round her whiteness, like a cloud, 

The darkness of her hair. 

So still, the little feet that late 

Had danced to meet her sire ! 
So still, the slender hands that swept 

But nov/ the golden lyre ! 
In this deep slumber can she hear 

The thrilling word, " Arise ! " 
Oh, will she at that kingly look 

Unclose those sealed eyes ? 

She hears, she stirs, she lives once more. 

What joys for some there be 
When to their hour of gloom the Lord 

Has crossed the silver sea ! 
And though to us He give not back 

Our dead, yet, better far. 
We know that where He dwells to-day. 

In life our dear ones are. 



152 COUNT UP THY GAINS. 



* STelling lesus (Ewer^ Mgl)!." 

^''They told him all things.'''' — St. Mark vi. 30. 

TELL Him all the failures. 
Tell Him all the sins ; 
He is kindly listening 

Till His child begins. 
Tell Him all the pleasures 

Of your merry day, 
Tell Him all the treasures 
Crowning all your way. 



THINK not alone of what the Lord hath taken, 
Thou whom His love has of some joy bereft. 
But in the moments thou art most forsaken, 
Think what His love hath left. 

Count up thy gains won from affliction's losses, 
The riches gathered in no cheaper mart ; 

The faith and hope, new crowns to costly crosses, 
Wrought out by sorrow's art. 

For the dear life of such remembered sweetness, 
Lived close with thine, thy life must be more sweet ; 

And for the spirit ripened to completeness, 
Thine must be more complete. 



REST, WE A RY SOUL! 1 5 3 



Thy heart that gave thee in unstinted measure 
The heart's demand — affection, blessing, ease ; — 

Wisdom and beauty, the soul's wealth of treasure ; — 
How rich art thou for these ! 

The morning brightness, with the promised splendor 
Of noontide glory, though it might not stay, 

Glows with a radiance twilight-like and tender 
Upon thy dull to-day — 

As in the stillness of the summer even, 
The light still lingers though the sun has set ; 

And hues that pass, but vanish into heaven 
To burn and brighten yet, 

Thou must climb faster for the aspiration 
To walk henceforth where those swift feet have 
trod; 

Thou art but fuller for the desolation 
That shuts thee in with God. 

Death is but life passed on : the sure progression 
Bears in its sweep thy life to that high sphere ; 

Thus time's dread losses gain the grand possession 
In the eternal year. 



Best, toears Sonl ! 



^EST, weary soul ! 
The penalty is borne, the ransom paid, 
For all thy sins full satisfaction made ; 
Strive not thyself to do what Christ has done ; 



154 / KNO W NOT WHA T THO U DOST. 



Take the free gift, and make the joy thine own, 
No more by pangs of guilt and fear distressed — 
Rest, sweetly rest ! 

Rest, weary heart ! 
From all thy silent griefs and secret pain, 
Thy profitless regrets and longings vain ; 
Wisdom and love have ordered all the past. 
All shall be blessedness and light at last : 
Cast off the cares that have so long oppressed — 

Rest, svvreetly rest ! 

Rest, weary head ! 
Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb. 
Light from above has broken through its gloom ; 
Here in the place v/here once thy Saviour lay. 
Where He shall wake thee on a future day, 
Like a tired child upon its mother's breast — 

Rest, sweetly rest ! 

Rest, spirit free ! 
In the green pasture of the heavenly shore, 
Where sin and sorrow can approach no more ; 
With all the flocks by the good Shepherd fed, 
Beside the streams of life eternal led. 
Forever with thy God and Saviour blessed — 

Rest, sweetly rest ! 



KNOW not what Thou dost — all, all seems dark ; 
Clouds of portentous blackness are o'erspread, 



THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 1 55 



Wild billows dash upon my quivering bark, 

The thunder's crash reverberates o'erhead. 
Yet, Lord, I'll trust Thee in life's darkest hour. 
My shield, my safeguard, and my strong high tower. 

I know not what Thou dost — ^yet I will wait 
Till I behold Thee in heaven's cloudless sky. 

Till I shall reach that glory-circled state 

In whose bright radiance darkness melts away. 

Then shall I read Thy doings here below 

Inscribed in lines of light which ever glow. 

I know not what Thou dost — yet I will know. 
And know to praise Thee for my darkest days. 

Though themes of sorrow seem Thy doings now, 
Yet they shall soon be turned to themes of praise — 

Yes, I will trust Thee till Thou kindly pour 

On me Thy glory's coruscating shower. 

I know not what Thou dost — yet will I hope 
In Thee, till life's wild troubled stream be past, 

Till heaven's fair portals on my vision ope. 
Till immortality be o'er me cast — 

Till glory on my wondering spirit break. 

And glad fruition follow in its wake. 



THE snow was drifting o'er the hills, 
Fierce was the wind and loud. 
While the Good Shepherd forward pressed, 
His head in sorrow bowed ; 



156 THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 



" O Shepherd, rest, nor farther go. 

The tempest hath begun." 
" I can not stay, I must away 

To seek My little one ! " 

A thorn-wreath bound the gentle brow 

That beam'd with pity sweet. 
And marks of wounds were in His hands. 

And scars upon His feet. 
Again I said : " O Shepherd, rest. 

The tempest hath begun." 
He murmured : " Nay, I must away 

To seek My little one ! " 

" I saw Thy flock at peace within 
Thine old well-guarded fold : 

Shepherd, pause, for wild the gale 
That rages o'er the world ! " 

" No ; one poor lamb hath gone astray. 
And soon may be undone ; 

1 can not stay, I must away 
To seek My little one ! " 

" But, since Thy flock are all secure. 
Why to the height repair ? 
If Thou hast ninety-nine at home. 
Why for a truant care ? " 
" Dearer to Me than all the rest 
Is that poor struggling son ! 
I can not stay, I must away 
To seek My little one ! " 

" Good Shepherd, tell me, if his need 
Should bring the wanderer home. 



IN HIS KEEPING. 157 



Wilt Thou not punish him with stripes, 

Lest he again should roam ? " 
* No ; I would clasp him to My heart. 
As mother clasps her son ; 

I can not stay, I must away 
To seek My little one ! " 

Even so, I thought, our gracious Lord 

Hath in His heart Divine 
A wealth of love for all His saints — 

For all the ninety-nine ! 
But most He loves, and most He seeks 

The soul by sin undone ; 
And still He sighs : " I must away 

To seek My little one ! " 



In %\% Eceping. 

I LAY me down at night 
In peaceful sleep, 
And care not if the glorious morning light 
Should never greet again this mortal sight — 
My soul He'll keep ! 

Why should I hope or fear? 
He knows my need ; 
Whether the way before stretch long and clear, 
Or the valley's shades e'en now are near, 
He still will lead ! 



158 ''NOT AS I will:' 



The everlasting arms 

Encircle me ; 
I can not fall beneath them in life's storms, 
I'm safe from all that leads astray or harms, 

So strong is He ! 

On Him my cares I lay 

Whate'er betides, 
Whether I tread a long and shadowed way. 
Or swift am borne by angels bright array, 

'Tis He who guides. 

And if my waking find. 
Within the veil, 
Clouds even darker than those left behind, 
I'll trust the hand that hath been always kind- 
God can not fail ! 



'^3X^0t as I toill." 

BLINDFOLDED and alone I stand, 
V/ith unknown threshold on each hand ; 
The darkness deepens as I grope. 
Afraid to fear, afraid to hope ; 
Yet this one thing I learn to know. 
Each day, more surely as I go, 
That doors are opened, ways are made, 
Burdens are lifted, or are laid, 
By some great law, unseen and still, 
Unfathomed purposes to fulfill, 
** Not as I will." 



SMOKING FLAX AND BR VISED REED. 1 5 9 



Blindfolded and alone I wait ; 
Loss seems too bitter, gain too late ; 
Too heavy burdens in the load, 
And too few helpers on the road ; 
And joy is weak, and grief is strong. 
And years and days so long, so long ; 
Yet this one thing I learn to know, 
Each day, more surely as I go. 
That I am glad the good and ill. 
By changeless laws are ordered still, 
" Not as I will." 

* Not as I will ; " the sound grows sweet 

Each time my lips the words repeat. 
" Not as I will ; " the darkness feels 

More safe than light when this thought steals. 

Like whispered voice, to calm and bless 

All unrest and all loneliness. 
" Not as I will," because the One 

Who loves us first and best has gone 

Before us on the road, and still 

For us must all His love fulfill, 
" Not as we will." 



%\\t Smoking S\a% anb IBritiseb leeJr. 

WHEN evening choirs the praises hymned 
In Zion's courts of old. 
The high-priest walked his rounds, and trimmed 
The shining lamps of gold ; 



1 60 SMOKING FLAX AND BR VISED REED. 



And if, perchance, some flame burned low. 
With fresh oil vainly drenched, 

He cleansed it from its socket, so 
The smoking flax was quenched. 

But Thou who walkest. Priest Most High ! 

Thy golden lamps among. 
What things are weak, and near to die, 

Thou makest fresh and strong. 
Thou breathest on the trembling spark, 

That else must soon expire, 
And swift it shoots up through the dark, 

A brilliant spear of fire ! 

The shepherd, that to stream and shade 

Withdrew his flock at noon, 
On reedy stop soft music made, 

In many a pastoral tune ; 
And if, perchance, the reed were crushed, 

It could no more be used, — 
Its mellow music marred and hushed ; 

He brake it, when so bruised. 

But Thou, Good Shepherd, who dost feed 

Thy flock in pasture green. 
Thou dost not break the bruised reed 

That sorely crushed hath been. 
The heart that dumb in anguish lies. 

Or yields but notes of woe, 
Thou dost re-tune to harmonies 

More rich than angels know ! 

Lord, once my love was all ablaze. 
But now it burns so dim ; 



THE CROSS. i6l 



My life was praise, but now my days 
Make a poor broken hymn. 

Yet ne'er by Thee am I forgot, 
But help'd in deepest need, — 

The smoking flax Thou quenchest not, 
Nor break'st the bruised reed. 



^t lesns' ineet. 

DEAR Master, I am sitting at Thy feet ; 
I would not miss a look or lose a word ; 
The hour is very holy when we meet ; 

I fain would see and hear none but the Lord ; 
I long to lay aside joy, grief, and fear, 
And only know and feel that Thou art near. 

The world's discordant noises evermore 
Clang round about my ears and weary me ; 

They were rough hands, ungentle hearts before 
That troubled me ; but now I come to Thee, 

O Jesus, quiet me with tender speech. 

While up to Thee my wishful arms I reach. 



I AM linked to the cross of Jesus 
By golden fetters of love, 
Till the crown the cross replaces 
In God's happy land above. 



1 62 THE CROSS. 



'Tis the holy bond of union 
Between my Saviour and me ; 

*Tis only by bearing it daily 
His heavenly face I see. 

How often I looked upon it 
As a ponderous, gloomy thing. 

So heavy to lift and to carry, 
It could only weariness bring. 

But when I stooped to the burden. 
And took it within my arms, 

I found it grew easy to carry, 
I saw it had hidden charms. 

And as I carried, and carried it. 

Daily uplifting it high. 
Before I knew, it had lifted me 

Between the earth and the sky. 

Under me now is the world, 

I stand upon Zion's crest. 
Linked to the cross forever. 

Behind it I sweetly rest. 

Tis the guide-board pointing us onward 
O'er the path that the Saviour trod. 

The passport through heaven's gate-way 
To the city of our God. 

I am linked to the cross of Jesus 
By the golden bands of love. 

Till a crown the cross replaces 
In the heavenly land above. 



HYMN. 163 



f 2 ^ ^^ • 

O CHRIST, Thy pitying heart 
With mournfulness doth melt. 
Because from care I will not part, 
Though Thou in me hast dwelt. 

O Christ, dear loving Lord, 

I would that I could lean ; 
Yet, Christ, my life, my God adored. 

How can I Thee demean ? 

O Christ, my dearest friend. 
Toward whom my longings tend. 

From Heaven to me Heaven's whiteness send, 
Heaven's virtues in me blend. 

Then Christ, Thou Crucified, 
Perchance with trembling heart, 

Myself in Thee I'll dare to hide, 
And let Thee bear my part. 

O Christ, whose love, so deep. 

Is fathomless as space. 
E'en while I long, e'en while I weep. 

Thou offer'st me Thy grace. 

O Christ, dear Lord, dear love. 

Thou sanctity of peace. 
Now while I linger, from above 

Thou sendest sweet release. 



1 64 BE S TILL IN GOD. 



Dear Christ, Thou patient heart. 
Thou me, defiled, hast blest. 

No longer can I bear my part ; 
I enter into rest. 

Lo ! where is sin — is fear ? 

How near Thou art — so near ! 
Sin, self, the world, can not appear 

When Thy dear voice I hear. 



Be Still in (B^ob. 

BE still in God ! Who rests on Him 
Enduring peace shall know. 
And with a spirit fresh and free 
Through life shall cheer'ly go. 
Be still in faith ! Forbear to seek 

Where seeking naught avails. 
Unfold thy soul to that pure light 
From heaven, which never fails. 

Be still in love ! Be like the dew 

That, falling from the skies, 
On meadows green, in thousand cups, 

At morning twinkling lies ! 
Be still in conduct, striving not 

For honor, wealth, or might ! 
Who in contentment breaks his bread 

Finds favor in God's sight. 



THOMAS DIDYMUS, 165 



Be still in sorrow ! " As God wills ! " 

Let that thy motto be, 
Submissive 'neath His strokes receive 

His image stamped on thee. 
Be still in God ! Who rests on Him 

Enduring peace shall know, 
And with a spirit glad and free 

Through night and grief shall go. 



LOOKING backv/ard, backward, across the flood 
of years 
To where the glorious company of early saints ap- 
pears, 
I see, with piercing vision and eager, outstretched 

hands, 
Questioning, reasoning, arguing, Thomas the Doubt- 
er stands. 
" The Lord hath risen, hath stood among us here, 
Hath conquered death that we no more may grieve " — 
" Unless I see Him, touch the wound of spear. 
And view the nail prints — I will not believe ! " 
" The holy women heard the angels tell 
How He hath burst the bondage of the tomb. 
Hast thou not heard thy brethren speak, as well, 
Of that strange meeting in the Upper Room ? 
And when toward Emmaus they slowly walked 
The risen Saviour joined them on the way. 
How burned their hearts within them as they talked ! " 
Poor, doubting Thomas sadly utters : " Nay, 
Unless mine eyes shall see the bloody stain. 



1 66 MV HELP. 



Unless I see the print the sword did leave, 
Unless my fingers press the wounded side 
And touch the thorn-marks — I can not believe ! " 

Lo ! as he speaks a gracious Presence stands 
Within their midst, and meekly bows His head. 
All torn with thorns, and shows those tender hands 
And pierced side, which for our sins had bled. 
" Come hither, Thomas, thrust thy doubting hand 
Into the side once wounded for thy sake ; 
View the sad brow pressed by the thorny band, 
And let the sight thy faithless heart-strings break." 

Ah, the loved voice, the well-known, tender smile ! 
Thomas the Doubter bends the adoring knee. 
" My Lord, my God, forgive Thy stubborn child ; 
Grant me the blessing of sweet faith in Thee ! " 
Lord, have I not, like Thomas, doubted Thee } 
Doubted Thy power. Thy goodness, and Thy love ; 
Doubted that Thou from sin could set me free ; 
Doubted the voice that called me from above ? 
Melt my hard heart and break my stubborn will ; 
Wean me from thoughts that trouble and deceive ; 
Oh, let mine be the blessing promised still 
To those who, having seen not, yet believe ! 



OGOD, my Help ! my trust 
Shall ever be in Thee ! 
In every sharp distress, 
Comfort Thou me. 



UNUSED SPICES. 167 



When fiercely fast the darts 
Surely hurled by grievous fate, 

My quivering heart assail 
With demon hate — 

When, O my Helper, God, 
Helpless, I cry to Thee, 

Come, with Thy saving power, 
Conquer for me. 

When bruised, sore dismayed, 
And overwhelmed, I flee 

To Thy sure refuge. Lord, 
Shelter Thou me. 

Oh, whither shall I go, 
My God, if not to Thee ? 

My Help, my Hope, my All, 
Oh, welcome me ! 



Enuseb Spices. 

"iV<7W upon the first day of the week, very early in the morning, 
they came unto the sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had 
prepared."— Luke xxiv. i. 

WHAT said those women as they bore 
Their fragrant gifts away ? 
The spices that they needed not 
That resurrection day.? 



1 68 UNUSED SPICES. 



Did Mary say within her heart. 
Our work hath been in vain ? 

Or, counting o'er the spices bought. 
Of so much waste complain ? 

Not so, for though the risen Lord 

Their spices did not need. 
Not unrewarded was the love 

That planned the reverent deed. 

For though unused their fragrant store. 
Yet well might they rejoice. 

Since they the first who saw the Lord, 
The first who heard His voice. 

Sweet story, hast thou not some truth 

For my impatient heart ; 
Some lesson that shall stay with me 

Its comfort to impart ? 

Have I not gathered in the past. 

In days that are no more, 
Of spices sweet, and ointment rare. 

What seemed a precious store ? 

A little knowledge I had gained, 

A little strength and skill. 
I thought to use them for my Lord, 

If such should be His will. 

Alas ! my store unused hath been. 

The strength I prized hath gone ; 
My weary hands have lost their skill. 

And yet my life goes on. 



A SONG OF SOLACE. 169 



In all the busy work of life 

I have but scanty share, 
And scanty is the service done 

For Him whose name I bear. 

So many hopes and plans have died 

In weariness and pain, 
My heart cries out in sore distress : 

" Was all my work in vain ? " 

Be still, sad heart, thy hopes and plans 

Are known to One divine ; 
He knoweth all thou wouldst have done 

Had greater strength been thine. 

My unused spices ! Dearest Lord, 
They were prepared for Thee, 

Yet if for them Thou hast no need, 
Let love my offering be. 



^ Song of Solace. 

THOU sweet hand of God that woundest my heart, 
Thou makest me smile while Thou makest me 
smart ; 
It seems as if God were at ball-play — and I, 
The harder He strikes me, the higher I fly. 

I own it : He bruises. He pierces me sore. 
The hammer and chisel affect me no more. 
Shall I tell you the reason ? It is that I see 
The Sculptor will carve out an angel from me. 



1)0 THE BRIDGE OF LIFE. 



I shrink from no suffering, how painful soe'er, 
When once I can feel that my God's hand is there ; 
For soft on the anvil the iron shall glow, 
When the smith with his hammer deals blow upon 
blow. 

God presses me hard, but He gives patience too, 
And I say to myself : " 'Tis no more than my due ; " 
And no tone from the organ can swell on the breeze 
Till the organist's fingers press down on the keys. 

So come, then, and welcome, the blow and the pain ; 
Without them no mortal can Heaven attain ; 
For what can the sheaves on the barn floor avail 
Till the thresher shall beat out the chaff with his flail } 

Tis only a moment God chastens with pain, 
Joy follows on sorrov,r like sunshine on rain ; 
Then bear thou what God on thy spirit shall lay, 
Be dumb, but when tempted to murmur, then pray. 



®l)e Bribfie of £ifc. 

ACROSS the rapid stream of seventy years. 
The slender bridge of human life is thrown ; 
The past and future form its mouldering piers : 
The present moment is its frail key-stone ; 

From " dust thou art " the arch begins to rise, 
" To dust " the fashion of its form descends, 

" Shalt thou return," the higher curve implies. 
In which the first to the last lowness bends. 



THE BRIDGE OF LIFE. 171 



Seen by youth's magic light upon the arch, 
How lovely does each far-off scene appear ! 

But, ah ! how changed when on the onward march. 
Our weary footsteps bring the vision near ! 

'Twas fabled that beneath the rainbow's foot 
A treasure lay, the dreamer to bewitch : 

And many wasted in the vain pursuit 

The golden years that would have made them rich. 

So where life's arch of many colors leads, 
The heart expects rich wealth of jo};^ to find ; 

But in the distance the bright hope recedes, 
And leaves a cold gray waste of care behind. 

A sunlit stream upon its bosom takes 

The inverted shadow of a bridge on high, 

And thus the arch in air and water makes 
One perfect circle to the gazer's eye. 

So 'tis with life : the things that do appear 
Are fleeting shadows on time's passing tide, 

Cast by the sunshine of a higher sphere 

From viewless things that changelessly abide. 

The real is but the half of life ; it needs 

The ideal to make a perfect whole ; 
The sphere of sense is incomplete, and pleads 

The closer union with the sphere of soul. 

All things of use are bridges that conduct 

To things of faith, which give them truest worth : 

And Christ's own parables do us instruct 
That heaven is but the counterpart of earth. 



172 'OF LITTLE FAITH. " 



The pier that rests upon this shore's the same 
As that which stands upon the further bank : 

And litness for our duties here will frame 
A fitness for the joys of higher rank. 

Oh, dark were life without heaven's sun to show 
The likeness of the other world in this ! 

And bare and poor would be our lot below 
Without the shadow of a world of bliss. 

Then let us, passing o'er life's fragile arch. 
Regard it as a means, and not an end ; 

As but the path of faith on which we march 
To where all glories of our being tend. 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 

PAGK 

Above the trembling elements MRS. A. L. price. 23 

Across the rapid stream of seventy years 170 

After the shower the tranquil sun no 

After the storm, a calm 100 

Ah ! little I'll reck, when the journey is o'er e. s. w. 90 

A little pause in life while daylight lingers 43 

A little while with tides of dark and light 138 

All day, all night I can hear the jar 85 

All day the wind with bitter breath had with the trees been 

pljdng L. L. w. 86 

An easy thing, O Po A^er Divine ! 130 

A pilgrim am I on my way E. foxton. 80 

As flows the river 45 

As one who sails 'neath Southern stars 33 

A sweeter song than e'er was sung eleanor kirk. 82 

Behold, I knock ! 'Tis piercing cold abroad 52 

Being perplexed, I say anna warner. 25 

Be still in God — who rests in Him. from the German of julius 

STURM. 164 

Bewildered, Father, at Thy feet I fall to-day marv b. dodge. 148 

Blindfolded and alone I stand Helen hunt. 158 

Christ never asks of us such busy labor 11 

Closer, my child, to Me 128 

Cometh the night, wherein no man may labor 73 

Come to us Lord of love and light 66 

Come ye yourselves apart awhile and rest e. h. 78 

Dear Master, I am sitting at Thy feet 161 

Each morn on awakening . . Marianne farningham. 29 

Fear not, O troubled heart, to take on trust m. s. 34 

For gladsome summer days hetta l. h. ward. 44 

For the joy set before thee 48 

(173) 



174 INDEX TO FIRST IINES. 



From the fine fret of little cares Elizabeth stuart phelps. 135 

From an old English parsonage down by the sea 139 

Give me the lowest place : not that 1 dare. Christiana g. kossetti. 8 

God called me in the morning of my day x-ifi 

He that findeth his life shall lose it C. b. le row (?) <)o 

Hidden with Christ, as the busy brain c. b. le row 95 

His will be done : thou canst not pause or shrink . . William higgs 60 

Mow sweet, how passing sweet 65 

I am linked to the cross of Jesus MRS. E. p. leland. 161 

I am not strong, my Father.. Marianne farningham. 96 

I am not worthy, is not this the thought E. r. s. 80 

I am so v/eak, dear Lord ! I can not stand 89 

I asked of God a single gift mrs. maggie b. peeke. 62 

I heard a voice in the night kev. Washington gladden. 133 

If all our lives were one broad glare j. besemeres. 134 

If when I kneel to pray charles f. richard!^on. 84 

I know my God He hath no need of me r. r. bowker, 120 

I know not — the way is so misty ... 75 

I know not what Thou dost, all, all seems dark. .Marianne farn- 
ingham. 154 

I knelt before my Father's throne with sins and cares opprest 

E. c. m. 117 

I lay me down at night in peaceful sleep calista l. grant. 157 

In a pleasant upper chamber 63 

In the horror of great darkness c. p. 54 

I said, " Sweet Master, hear me pray '' . . . .harriht m'ev/en kim- 

BALL 20 

I saw two candles ; one unlighted lay rev. wade robinson. 73 

I sometimes feel the thread of life is slender .hezekiah butter- 
worth. 8 

I sought Thee when my heart was low 114 

Is the road very dreary 72 

It is the evening hour 84 

I would be quiet, Lord julia c. R. dorr. 14 

I would that I were fairer. Lord.. , 24 

Lead me, O Lord mrs. m. f. butts. 105 

Life hath its barren years iSADORa; c, gilbert. 144 

Like a blind spinner in the sun hklen hunt. 60 

Lord, dost Thou care to have my soul 127 

Lord, let me talk with Thee of all I do 113 

Lord, open the door, for I falter lucy larcom. S 



INDEX TO FIRST LINES. i75 



Look no more within j. e. rankin, d.d. 141 

Looking backward, backward, across the flood of years, .mrs. e. a. 

MATTHEWS. 165 

More Holiness give me 112 

Much more than this — O loving Christ 32 

My God, I'd rather look to Thee eliza scudder. 69 

My God, while journeying to Canaan's land 13 

My soul fast cleaveth to the dust canon bell, d.d. 77 

My sleepless eyes were dim with tears ... 70 

My summons may come in the morning 76 

Nay, Friend, endure with meekness 14a 

Night s shadows lengthen 'till they meet and close 15 

Not as the world 64 

Not m myself, O Lord ! not mine the good marion conthony 95 

Oh, for a mind more clear to see phcebe Carey. 115 

Oh, fragile bark, upon an unknown sea 58 

Oh, gentle sleep ! the gracious gift and blest Genevieve m. j. 

IRONS. 57 

Oh, ask not Thou, how shall I bear lady teignmouth. 41 

O Christ, Thy pitying heart may h. norris. 163 

O God, my help, my trust mary e. c. wyeth. 166 

O heart, too deeply loving 39 

O strong-barred gate mrs. m. f. butts. 21 

Oh, for a vision and a voice to lead me 106 

Oh, for the Seeing eye mary e. bradley. 132 

One night upon a couch of pain hannah more johnson. 102 

Only a blade of grass Margaret. 70 

Only a word for the Master charlotte Murray. 27 

On the mount of contemplation . 36 

Oh, say not so ! my heart, with sorrow swelling j. G. F. 67 

Oh, the bitter shame and sorrow theo. monod. 145 

O Thou whom we, in Faith, are taught to call 146 

Rest ! Rest ! mary b. sleight. 108 

Rest, weary soul, the penalty is borne 153 

Sitting in the shadow singing. . 37 

Something, my God, for Thee f. n p. 129 

Some hearts are like a quiet \illage street miss blatciiley. 122 

So should we live that every hour 31 

So hard ! so hard ! All though the weary day. 126 

Still are the ships that in haven ride ii 



176 INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 



Tell him all the failures E. r. h. 152 

The boat that bore the Master had crossed the silver sea 149 

The course of the weariest river 53 

The day dies slowly in the western sky H. M. 56 

The day is passed that seemed so wearisome mrs. mary spring 

WALKER. 10 

The Easter praises may falter. MARY lowe Dickenson. iC 

The limpid waters of the sacred lake a. f. p. 18 

The Master calls thee ! Oh, those blessed words " cousin 

ALICE." 123 

The morning breaks in clouds, the rain is falling . 22 

The night is dark, 'but God, my God mrs. Helen e. brown. 109 

The snow was drifting o'er the hills w. H. D. A. 155 

There are shadows near every pathway c. A. ogden. 28 

There is a thought upon my bosom stealing.. rev. f. t. pomeroy. 49 

The tide is out.. mary w, m' lain. 92 

The mistakes of my life are many iii 

The little boat went gliding on . JOHN Harris. 121 

They are gathering homeward from every land 125 

Thou givest, Lord, full measure anna shipton. 88 

Think not alone of what the Lord hath taken, .e. Elizabeth lay 152 

Thou sweet hand of God that woundest my heart from the 

GERMAN. 169 

'Tis like a narrow valley land 51 

'Tis not its blood that bursts the vine 35 

To search for truth and wisdom 119 

To watch, to work, to wait 147 

Up from the dead He comes ; no bands might bind Him m. e. 

winslow. 46 

Up the long slope of this low sandy shore 14 

We know not what is expedient . 7 

We look with scorn on Peter's thrice-told lie paul h. hayne. 124 

We pray not, Lord, that we may never lack yi 

We would not always come to God s. k. 99 

What God decrees, child of His love 104 

What said those women as they bore m. h. howland. 167 

When evening choirs the praises hymned ..REV. w. B. Robertson. 159 

Where art thou gone, oh, my believing heart loi 

Years came and went, and with me all was well 131 



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